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BOSTON     DAYS 


LILIAN  WHITING'S  WORKS 

The  World  Beautiful.     First  Series 
The  World  Beautiful.     Second  Series 
The  World  Beautiful.     Third  Series 
After  Her  Death.     The  Story  of  a  Summer 
From  Dreamland  Sent,  and  Other  Poems 
A  Study  of  Elizabeth  Barrett  Browning 
The  Spiritual  Significance 
Kate  Field  :  A  Record 
The  World  Beautiful  in  Books 
Boston  Days 


BOSTON     DAYS 


THE  CITY  OF  BEAUTIFUL  IDEALS 
CONCORD,  AND  ITS  FAMOUS  AUTHORS 
THE  GOLDEN  AGE  OF  GENIUS 
DAWN   OF   THE   TWENTIETH    CENTURY 

By     LILIAN      WHITING 

AUTHOR   OF    "the  WORLD   BEAUTIFUL,"  FIRST,    SECOND, 
AKD    THIRD     SERIES;    "KATE    FIELD:    A    RECORD;" 

"a   study   op    MRS.    browning;"    "the 

SPIRITUAL     SIGNIFICANCE,"    ETC. 


"  Tell  men  what  they  knew  before 
Paint  the  prospect  from  the  door 


BOSTON    •      LITTLE,     BROWN 
AND     COMPANY      •      MDCCCCII 


*^^'^'<>«    i^>i.i.>..i,   UHK^^, 


CopyrigTit,  1902, 
By  Little,  Brown,  and  Company. 


All  rights  reserved 

Published  December,  1902 


i584;]8 


UNIVERSITY  PRESS    •     JOHN   WILSON 
AND     SON      •     CAMBRIDGE,    U.S.A. 


f  13.^'V 
^•5^ 

C^t  ^ 


TO 

CHARLOTTE   WHIPPLE 

(Mes.  Edwin  Percy  Whipple) 

WHOSE  LIFE  HAS  BEEN  ENSHRINED  IN  BOSTON'S 

GOLDEN   AGE    OF    GENIUS,   THIS    RECORD 

OF    ITS    BEAUTIFUL    DAYS    IS 

INSCRIBED    WITH   THE 

DEVOTION  OF 

LILIAN    WHITING 


"  The  fountains  of  my  hidden  life 
Are  through  thy  friendship  fair  " 


TO   THE    READER 

jHE  aim  in  this  volume  is  simply  to  present 
some  transcripts  of  the  remarkable  life  in 
Boston  during  the  nineteenth  century,  —  the 
latter  years  of  which  came  within  the  personal  observa- 
tion and  experience  of  the  writer,  and  nearly  all  of 
which  is,  or  has  been  until  recently,  within  the 
memory  of  people  yet  living.  It  is  not  the  design  to 
attempt  any  history  of  literature,  or  specific  biographical 
record, — but  only  to  read  backward,  like  the  Chaldeans, 
some  of  those  "  delicate  omens  traced  in  air,"  —  to  in- 
terpret some  of  that  mystic  handwriting  on  the  wall 
which,  traced  in  the  invisible  ink  of  spiritual  record  by 
the  great  and  good  v/hose  theatre  of  action  was  in  this 
city,  yet  reveals  itself  as  in  letters  of  light,  to  the  vision 
of  sympathy  and  of  reverence.  It  is  the  Boston  whose 
^'  hierarchy  was  based  on  education,  public  service,  and 
the  importance  of  the  ministry," — on  culture,  philo- 
sophic thought,  literary  art,  and  the  ethics  of  spirituality, 
— which  is  studied  in  these  pages.  Boston  was  planted 
in  prayer,  and  nurtured  by  spiritual  uplifting.  Cotton 
Mather,  an  ancestor  of  the  writer  of  these  pages,  records 


TO   THE   READER 


in  his  "  Magnalia  "  :     " '  T  is  possible  that  our  Lord  Jesus 

Ciirist  carried  some  thousands  of  Reformers  into   the 

Retirement  of  an  American  Desert  on  purpose  that  with 

an   opportunity  granted   unto   many   of  His   Faithful 

Servants  to  enjoy  the  precious  Liberty  of  their  Ministry 

.  .  .  He  might  then  give  a  specimen  of  many  good 

things  which  He  would  have  His  churches  elsewhere 

aspire  and  aim  unto,  and  this  being  done  He  knows 

not  whether  there  be  not  all  done  that  New  England 

was  planted  for." 

Reverently  may  it  be  said  that  it  doth  not  yet  appear 

what  greatness  may  await  the  Boston  of  the  future, 

with  her  present  wonderful  activity  in  commercial  and 

industrial  development;   in  extension  of  her  residence 

regions  by  means  of  her  splendid  system  of  local  transit ; 

in  the  growing  strength  of  her  institutions,  in  the  power 

and  influence  of  her  citizens ;  but  in  one  quality  must 

the  Boston  of  the  Past  and  the  Boston  of  the  Future 

forever  be  united  in  identity, — the  quality  that  has  made 

her  and  will  forevermore  keep  her  to  be  the  City  of 

Beautiful  Ideals. 

L.  W. 

The  Bru]S'swick, 
Boston,  August,  1902. 


CONTENTS 

I. 

The  City  of  Beautiful  Ideals      .     .    .    •        3 

II. 

Concord,  and  Its  Famous  Authors     .    .         103 

III. 

The  Golden  Age  of  Genius 201 

IV. 
The  Dawn  of  the  Twentieth  Century     .     325 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 


Phillips  Broots Frontispiece 

From  a  photograph  by  Dr.  Samuel  J.  Mixter 

Boston  Common  and  the  State  House Page    3 

Facsimile    of    a  letter  from   John    G.    Whittier    to 

Edwin  P.  Whipple "63 

Facsimile,  "  The  Rainy  Day,"  by  Henry  W.  Longfellow  "     83 

The  Old  Manse,  Concord "108 

The  Orchard  House "140 

Louisa  M.  Alcott "150 

From  a  crayon  by  Stacy  Tolman,  now  first  reproduced 

Facsimile  of  a  letter  from  Henry  W.  Longfellow  to 

Edwin  P.  Whipple "203 

Edwin  P.  Whipple "209 

From  an  original  painting 

Facsimile  of  a  letter  from  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes  to 

Mrs.  Whipple "216 

Mrs.  Edwin  P.  Whipple "220 

From  a  crayon  drawing 

Facsimile  of  a  letter  to  Edwin  P.  Whipple  from  Ralph 

Waldo  Emerson  and  others "   230 

Facsimile,    "  The   Chambered  Nautilus,"    by   Oliver 

Wendell  Holmes "249 


LIST  OF   ILLUSTRATIONS 


Julia  Ward  Howe Page  268 

From  an  early  photograph 

Facsimile,  "  Power  reft  of  aspiration,"  by  Julia  Ward 

Howe .      "273 


Facsimile  of  a  letter  from  Rev.  Edward  Everett  Hale 
to  Edwin  P.  Whipple 

Winifred  Howells 

From  a  painting  by  Helen  M.  Knowlton. 


Trinity  Rectory 
Trinity  Church 


"Identity,"  a  picture  by  Elihu  Vedder  for  Aldrich's 
poem 

Sarah  Holland  Adams 

From  a  photograph. 

The  facsimiles  are  from  manuscripts  in  the  possession  of 
Mrs.  Edwin  P.  Whipple. 


280 
311 

341 

424 

437 
441 


I 

THE   CITY   OF  BEAUTIFUL  IDEALS 


Spirits,  with  wliom  the  stars  connive, 
To  work  their  will.'' 

Every  thought  is  public  ; 
Every  nook  is  wide. 
The  gossips  spread  each  whisper 
And  the  gods  from  side  to  side. 

Emerson. 


»q 


BOSTON   DAYS 

THE  CITY  OF  BEAUTIFUL  IDEALS 

"  Thou  slialt  make  thy  house 
The  temple  of  a  nation's  vows," 

OSTON  is,  essentially,  the  City  of  Beautiful 
Ideals,  and   the  mot   that  it  is  a  condition 
and  not  a  locality  is  not  without  its  claim 
to  literal  acceptance.     It  is  a  fact  so  remarkable  as  to 
be  unparalleled  in  the  history  of  any  nation  that   so 
large  a  number  of  eminent   persons  should   be   born 
within  a  period  of  hardly  more  than  twenty  years  in 
or  near  one  city,  all  of  whom  should  be  drawn  to  it 
by  some  law  of  spiritual  magnetism,  as  the  scene  to 
be  identified  with  their  work  and  life.     Although  Mr. 
Alcott  was   born   in   Connecticut,  Mr.   Longfellow  in 
Maine,  Mrs.  Howe   in  New  York,  and  a  few  others 
of  the   group  were   born    outside   Boston,   yet,   prac- 
tically, they  are  all  Bostonians  in  the  sense  of  sym- 
pathy with  the  genius  loci,  and  of  their  directive  power 
as  great  leaders  of  thought.     Between  1799  and  1823 
there  appeared  a  wonderful  group  that  included  Alcott, 
Emerson,  Allston,  Lydia  Maria  Child,  Hawthorne,  Eliza- 
beth   Peabody,   Dr.    Hedge,   George   Ripley,    George 
Bancroft,  John  Lothrop  Motley,  Eufus  Choate,  William 


BOSTON   DAYS 


Lloyd  Garrison,  Robert  C.  Winthrop,  Longfellow,  Whit- 
tier,  Prof.  Benjamin  Peirce,  Margaret  Fuller,  James 
Freeman  Clarke,  Theodore  Parker,  Wendell  Phillips, 
Thoreau,  Lucy  Stone,  Charles  Sumner,  James  Russell 
Lowell,  Edwin  Percy  Whipple,  Julia  Ward  Howe, 
James  T.  Fields,  Mary  A.  Livermore,  Abby  Morton 
Diaz,  Edward  Everett  Hale,  Francis  Parkman,  Thomas 
Wentworth  Higginson,  and  Ednah  D.  Cheney. 

This  group  is  a  constellation  of  the  Nineteenth  cen- 
tury whose  illumination  has  not  faded  as  one  by  one 
they  have  nearly  all  passed  on  into  the  Silent  Land. 
The  presence  of  Mrs.  Howe,  Mrs.  Livermore,  Mrs. 
Diaz,  Dr.  Hale,  Colonel  Higginson,  and  Mrs.  Cheney 
still  charms  the  hour  and  radiates  its  inspiration  to 
countless  currents  of  life. 

In  that  impressive  creation  of  Mr.  St.  Gaudens, 
the  statue  of  "The  Puritan,"  standing  with  a  staff 
held  in  one  hand  and  a  Bible  under  his  arm,  there 
is  typified  the  spirit  in  which  Boston  was  founded. 
The  story  of  the  Puritan  capital  is  a  veritable  ro- 
mance; it  is  the  story  of  the  fire  that  came  down 
from  Heaven  to  make  itself  the  living  coal  on  the 
altar;  of  life  always  invested  with  a  certain  stateli- 
ness  as  befitting  a  people  of  "quality  and  eminent 
parts."  From  those  days  of  1630  when  John  Win- 
throp wrote  to  his  wife  in  England,  "We  are  in 
Paradise  where  we  enjoy  God  and  Jesus  Christ;  is 
not  this  enough?"  when  that  saintly  young  divine, 
John  Harvard,  with  his  slender  endowment  of  eight 
hundred  pounds  and  with  the  untold  richness  of  his 


THE   CITY   OF   BEAUTIFUL  IDEALS  5 

endowment  of  faith  and  prayer,  founded  a  college  in 
the  wilderness ;  from  those  days  to  these  of  the  Twen- 
tieth century,  the  story  of  Boston  has  not  been  less 
wonderful  than  that  of  old  when  Moses  led  his  people 
into  the  Promised  Land. 

The  coming  of  Cotton  and  Increase  Mather  and  of 
the  Rev.  John  Cotton  was  an  event  of  incalculably 
far-reaching  influence.  Mr.  Cotton  was  followed  by 
one  of  his  most  devoted  parishioners,  a  woman  whose 
strong  individuality  impressed  itself  on  the  life  of 
the  colony.  This  was  Mistress  Anne  Hutchinson, 
the  Mary  Livermore  of  her  day.  Governor  Winthrop 
characterized  her  as  "a  godly  woman  and  of  special 
parts,  who  had  lost  her  understanding  by  occasion  of 
her  giving  herself  wholly  to  reading  and  writing; 
whereas,  if  she  had  attended  to  her  household  affkirs 
and  such  things  as  belong  to  women,  and  had  not  gone 
out  of  her  way  and  calling  to  meddle  in  such  things 
as  are  proper  for  men,  whose  minds  are  stronger,  she 
had  kept  her  wits  and  might  have  improved  them 
usefully  and  honorably  in  the  place  God  set  her." 

Mistress  Hutchinson  was  as  indomitable  as  Lucy 
Stone  or  Mrs.  Livermore,  and  she  brought  to  bear  a 
strong  and  determining  influence.  She  was  essen- 
tially a  modern  woman,  three  centuries  in  advance  of 
her  time.  She  had  the  same  wonderful  power  to 
attract,  to  impress,  to  influence  people  and  events 
that  is  so  peculiarly  the  gift  of  Mrs.  Livermore. 
Anne  Hutchinson  was  a  born  mystic,  a  Transcenden- 
talist,  and  a  holder  of  a   belief  not  unlike  that  now 


BOSTON   DAYS 


spriDging  up  under  many  phases  and  names,  and 
everywhere  recognized  as  the  highest  interpretation  of 
spirituality.  She  believed  in  the  direct  intercourse 
between  the  individual  and  the  Divine  Spirit,  which 
the  Puritan  clergy  held  to  be  a  sacrilege  and  a  heresy. 
They  regarded  the  doctrine  of  "  inner  light "  as  a  pecu- 
liarly objectionable  heresy,  and  when  Mistress  Hutch- 
inson '' claimed  to  have  evolved  a  knowledge  of  the 
Divine  will  from  her  inner  consciousness"  they  de- 
nounced it  as  blasphemy.  She  was  a  born  social 
leader,  and  as  the  only  life  of  that  day  was  the  re- 
ligious life,  —  there  being  no  newspapers,  no  dances, 
parties,  theatres,  concerts,  or  libraries,  —  nothing  but 
the  Sabbath  services,  followed  by  the  church  meet- 
ings and  the  Thursday  lectures.  Mistress  Anne  called 
together  her  women  friends  ("  females,"  in  the  quaint 
phraseology  of  the  day)  and  preached  to  them,  giv- 
ing them  an  enthusiastic  version  of  the  Rev.  John 
Cotton's  latest  sermon,  with  sundry  original  additions 
of  her  own.  She  became  the  fashion,  the  craze,  the 
fad  of  her  day.  But  the  stern  and  narrow  Puritan 
spirit  rejected  her :  has  not  the  world  always  stoned 
its  prophets  ?  The  home  of  Mistress  Hutchinson  was 
on  the  site  of  the  Old  Corner  Bookstore,  and  of 
her  personal  power  Mrs.  Caroline  H.  Dall  wrote :  — 

"  Her  weekly  lectures  appear  to  have  fascinated  those 
who  listened.  She  was  richly  endowed  with  wisdom  and 
grace.  She  exhibited  great  inward  resources  and  a 
saintly  patience.  The  class  of  thinkers  to  which  she 
belonged   recognized    the   profoundest    spiritual    truths. 


THE   CITY   OF   BEAUTIFUL   IDEALS  7 

She  had  a  wonderful  memory,  and  no  slight  power  of 
abstract  statement  and  generalization.  At  her  meetings 
there  was  perfect  freedom  of  remark  and  question,  —  a 
fascination  in  itself,  for  the  dictum  of  the  churches  ad- 
mitted neither.  In  her  parlors  objections  might  be 
offered.  The  neighboring  towns  rang  with  her  praises  ; 
the  women  who  were  so  fortunate  as  to  hear  her  reported 
her  sayings.  Even  John  Winthrop  said,  '  She  hath  a 
ready  wit  and  a  bold  spirit.' " 

The  Eighteenth  century  was  a  very  important  and 
determining  period  in  Boston  life.  Benjamin  Franklin 
was  born  in  January  of  1706,  on  Milk  Street,  his  father's 
home  being  on  the  site  once  occupied  by  the  office  of 
the  "  Boston  Post."  Cotton  Mather,  who  had  become  a 
minister  of  the  Second  Church  in  1684,  died  in  1728, 
but  his  influence  permeated  the  entire  century,  and  it  is, 
indeed,  in  the  air  to-day.  In  this  great  divine  were 
united  the  names  and  the  characteristics  of  the  Mathers 
and  the  Cottons.  His  father  was  Dr.  Increase  Mather, 
pastor  of  the  North  Church,  and,  later.  President  of 
Harvard.  His  mother  was  Maria  Cotton,  a  daughter 
of  the  Rev.  John  Cotton.  Cotton  Mather  was  born  in 
Boston  in  1663,  and,  in  the  quaint  phraseology  of  his 
biography,  "  when  he  was  half  a  year  short  of  nineteen 
he  proceeded  master  of  arts,  and  received  his  degree  at 
the  hand  of  his  father,  who  was  then  president."  His 
tomb  at  Copp's  Hill  is  the  most  noted  one  in  the 
grounds,  and  the  heavy  slab  of  stone  covering  the  vault 
where  lie  the  bodies  of  the  Rev.  Drs.  Increase,  Cotton,  and 
Samuel  Mather  bears  simple  inscriptions  of  names  and 


BOSTON   DAYS 


dates.  During  this  century  Peter  Faneuil  gave  to  the 
city  the  hall  now  bearing  his  name  ;  the  first  newspaper 
was  founded ;  and  the  settlement  presented  the  appear- 
ance of  an  active  trading  town.  The  cows  were  still 
pastured  on  the  Common ;  but  the  social  life  held  its 
rigid  traditions  of  etiquette,  and  the  ladies  went  their 
rounds  in  a  chaise  with  one  horse,  attended  by  a  colored 
servant,  and  in  the  early  evening,  after  tea,  for  all 
Boston  dined  at  midday,  they  walked  on  the  Mall ;  and 
"those  not  disposed  to  the  evening  lecture"  adjourned 
to  one  another's  houses.  Great  regard  was  paid  to 
what  they  termed  "gentility."  Their  ideas  of  enter- 
tainment are  typified  by  a  record  in  Judge  Sewall's 
diary,  which  runs  :  — 

"I  went  to-day  to  look  at  my  vault.  It  was  an 
awful  but  pleasing  treat.  Having  said  '  the  Lord  knows 
who  shall  be  brought  hither  next,'  I  came  away." 

Social  rivalries  were  not  unknown  in  these  times. 
That  sturdy  patriot,  Samuel  Adams,  said  of  John 
Hancock,  whose  display  of  wealth  he  indignantly  de- 
nounced ;  "  John  Hancock  appears  in  public  in  the 
state  and  pageantry  of  an  Oriental  prince.  He  rides  in 
an  elegant  chariot  attended  by  four  servants  in  livery." 

The  Boston  of  Revolutionary  days  is  so  familiar  in  all 
history  that  it  may  here  be  passed  with  little  reference. 
During  those  years  the  story  of  Boston  was  identical 
with  the  story  of  the  nation.  It  was  a  vital  part  of  the 
national  progress  and  has  become  as  familiar  as  the 
alphabet.  The  local  patriotism  was  strong  and  fervent  ; 
and  at  the  close  of  the  war  there  set  in  a  new  era  of 


THE  CITY  OF  BEAUTIFUL   IDEALS  9 

progress  whose  trend  became  distinctively  that  of  intel- 
lectual and  literary  culture. 

Meantime  journalism  developed  rapidly;  a  railroad 
was  built  from  Boston  to  Worcester  and  another  pro- 
jected southward  to  run  through  Dorchester,  which 
brought  out  vigorous  demonstrations  of  remonstrance. 
The  residents  of  Dorchester  declared  that  a  railroad 
would  be  the  ruin  of  business.  Lucy  Stone,  when  talk- 
ing of  the  opposition  to  woman  suffrage,  used  often  to 
relate  with  glee  the  indignant  alarm  felt  by  the  people 
at  the  prospect  of  a  railroad.  "The  cattle  and  the 
sheep  grazing  on  the  plains  would  be  frightened  to 
death,"  they  said,  "and  the  milk  would  be  ruined." 
This  curiously  conservative  element  has  always  persisted 
in  Boston,  from  the  time  of  that  remonstrance  against  a 
steam  railway  to  that  vigorous  remonstrance  in  1894 
against  granting  a  charter  to  RadclifFe  College  (which, 
happily,  did  not  prevent  its  being  done)  ;  and  remon- 
strance meetings  of  women,  protesting  against  political 
duties,  consume,  apparently,  more  time  and  energy  than 
all  the  political  duties  they  could  undertake  in  a 
lifetime. 

The  Nineteenth  century  opened  as  we  have  seen,  with 
the  appearance  of  a  remarkable  galaxy  of  men  and 
women. 

William  Lloyd  Garrison,  who  was  destined  to  play  so 
potent  a  part  in  national  progress,  became  conscious  in 
his  earliest  youth  of  the  work  to  which  he  was  divinely 
commissioned,  —  that  of  freeing  his  country  from  that 
"  sum  of  all  villanies,"  human  slavery.     The  wealth,  in- 


10  BOSTON   DAYS 


fluence,  and  social  prestige  of  his  native  city  were  arrayed 
against  him.  Little  did  he  consider  it,  for  is  not  one 
with  God  a  majority?  In  an  obscnre  room  up  many 
flights  of  stairs  this  youth  of  nineteen  set  up  the  type  of 
his  paper,  "  The  Liberator."  He  called  meetings  and 
proclaimed  his  message.  The  story  of  those  days  when 
Garrison,  Wendell  Phillips,  Lydia  Maria  Child  and 
the  little  band  of  brave  reformers  who  gathered  around 
them,  held  their  meetings  in  Boston,  —  entering  by  back 
doors,  leaving  by  circuitous  routes,  and  literally  taking 
their  lives  in  their  hands,  —  is  a  subject  for  the  tragic 
muse. 

Among  the  remarkable  group  who  were  destined  to 
contribute  so  largely  to  the  formative  influences  of  their 
century,  the  Hon.  Robert  C.  Winthrop  was  a  distin- 
guished figure,  and  one  who  illustrated  a  marked  type 
of  New  England  life.  There  have  been  two  distinctive 
and  contrasting  types  of  life  here,  each  of  which  has 
contributed  to  the  fruition  of  latter-day  culture.  The 
one,  that  of  material  poverty,  transfigured  by  qualities  of 
intellect  and  spirit ;  the  other,  that  of  inherited  wealth 
and  its  attendant  refinement  of  external  environment. 
The  majority  of  men  whose  names  are  the  glory  of  New 
England  have  belonged  to  the  former.  Dr.  Edward 
Everett  Hale  says  that  his  boyhood  belonged  to  the 
time  when  a  gentleman  could  do  anything,  and  there 
was  no  task  he  might  not  ennoble.  Emerson  cut  wood 
during  his  college  life  to  assist  his  progress.  Plain 
living  and  high  thinking  were  a  badge  of  culture. 
Again,  there  were  those  who  were  born  in  the  purple, 


THE   CITY   OF  BEAUTIFUL   IDEALS  11 

sons  of  inherited  wealth,  and  among  these  were  Wendell 
Phillips  and  Robert  C.  Winthrop.  Independent  of  any 
necessity  of  earning  a  living,  Mr.  Winthrop  had  all  his 
time  to  devote  to  the  culture  of  his  scholarly  tastes. 
He  belonged  to  a  family  whose  name  was  one  of  the 
illustrious  group  of  Bradford,  Endicott,  Winslow,  and 
Winthrop.  His  ancestry  includes  many  eminent  names. 
Robert  Charles  Winthrop  was  born  in  Boston  on 
May  12,  1800,  and  graduated  from  Harvard  in  the 
famous  class  of  '29.  The  achievements  of  his  life  were 
purely  those  of  statesmanship,  which  differs  very  widely 
from  politics ;  and  as  a  statesman  it  is  perhaps  criti- 
cally true  that  he  barely  missed  greatness,  or,  at  least, 
the  greatness  that  impresses  itself  as  permanent  fame. 
Perhaps  his  culture  was  a  trifle  too  symmetrical  to  force 
itself  in  any  one  direction  sufficiently  to  act  immediately 
upon  afiairs.  All  the  latter  years  of  his  life  he  was 
easily  the  first  citizen  of  Massachusetts.  Wealth, 
honors,  troops  of  friends,  surrounded  him.  Yet  Clay, 
Webster,  and  Sumner  have  fame  more  purely  national. 
Mr.  Winthrop  w^as  all  his  life  a  conservative,  —  with 
faultless  taste,  with  intellectual  power,  with  eloquence 
and  elegance  of  address,  with  great  charm  of  manner ; 
but  the  one  grain  of  magnetism  —  or  of  madness  per- 
haps —  that  is  required  for  greatness  was  lacking  in  his 
symmetrical  character.  Whatever  the  impediments, 
however,  in  his  nature  and  temperament,  to  the  bringing 
a  decisive  influence  to  bear  on  the  country  at  large,  Mr. 
Winthrop  was  an  ideal  private  citizen.  His  life  was 
marked  by  scholarly  pursuits  in  classic  study,  in  historic 


12  BOSTON   DAYS 


research,  and  in  literary  enjoyment  and  appreciation ; 
by  a  fine  religious  sense,  by  moral  dignity,  and  by  social 
grace.  His  home  was  a  centre  of  exquisite  courtesy 
and  gracious  hospitality.  On  Washington's  birthday, 
each  year,  it  was  his  custom  to  receive  every  person, 
man,  woman,  or  child,  who  cared  to  come  to  his  house. 
It  was  an  occasion  so  unique  as  to  live  forever  in  the 
social  history  of  Boston.  The  manner  of  Mr.  Winthrop 
suggested  the  French  noblesse.  A  nobleman  of  the  Fau- 
bourg St.  Germain  might  have  received  all  Paris  as  Mr. 
Winthrop  did  all  who  in  his  own  city  came  to  greet  him. 
He  had  two  homes,  —  a  town  house  in  Marlborough 
Street  and  a  beautiful  estate  in  Brookline.  They  are 
both  historic  homes,  in  which  are  gathered  associations 
from  the  days  of  John  Winthrop,  his  ancestor,  and  they 
abound  in  books,  many  of  rare  editions  and  exceptional 
copies,  and  in  art  and  souvenirs  of  foreign  travel. 

Mr.  Winthrop  was  a  lifelong  communicant  of  Trinity 
Church,  and  it  was  largely  due  to  his  influence  that 
Phillips  Brooks,  in  1869,  accepted  the  call  to  Boston. 
Between  the  rector  and  his  distinguished  parishioner 
there  was  a  devoted  friendship ;  and  on  the  approach  of 
the  ceremonial  of  the  consecration  of  Dr.  Brooks  to  the 
Episcopate,  he  wrote  to  Mr.  Winthrop  saying  :  "  Your 
presence  will  be  the  crowning  token  of  the  kindness  and 
Christian  friendship  which  you  have  given  me  all  these 
years."  Although  some  thirty  years  the  senior  of  Dr. 
Brooks,  Mr.  Winthrop  outlived  his  friend  and  rector. 

Nothing  more  typically  represents  the  Boston  of 
the  Nineteenth  century  than  the  Athenseum  Library. 


THE  CITY   OF   BEAUTIFUL  IDEALS  13 


Here  the  portraits  of  distinguished  Bostonians  look 
down  from  the  walls,  and  their  busts  adorn  long  rows 
of  pedestals  on  three  sides  of  the  upper  reading  room, 
with  its  book-lined  alcoves.  The  very  atmosphere  holds 
the  tradition  and  remembrance  of  the  great  and  good, 
whose  special  resort  it  has  always  been.  Henry  James 
has  laughed  at  the  enthusiasm  of  the  early  Bostonians 
over  the  attenuated  outlines  of  Flaxman,  who  first 
represented  foreign  art  to  this  aesthetic  circle  ;  and  the 
visitor  of  to-day  may  smile  to  recall  the  serious  devo- 
tion with  which  Margaret  Fuller  sat  before  the  few 
casts  and  the  paintings  of  AUston,  to  record  her 
"  Impressions." 

Evidently,  the  lovers  of  Art  made  up  in  enthusiasm 
for  what  they  lacked  in  pictorial  subjects,  for  we  find 
Mary  Peabody  (later  Mrs.  Horace  Mann)  writing 
to  her  sister  Sophia  (Mrs.  Hawthorne)  as  follows :  — 

June  19,  1833. 
I  went  to  Dr.  Channing's  yesterday  afternoon  and 
carried  him  your  drawings,  with  which  he  was  so  en- 
chanted that  I  left  them  for  him  to  look  at  again.  He 
gathered  himself  up  in  a  little  striped  cloak,  and  all 
radiant  with  that  soul  of  his,  said  with  his  most  divine 
inflection,  ''  this  is  a  great  and  noble  undertaking  and 
will  do  much  for  us  here."  And  then  he  rolled  his  eye- 
brows upon  me  in  that  majestic  way  of  his,  which,  when 
it  melts  into  a  loveliness,  as  it  sometimes  does,  soon  takes 
captivity  captive.  In  short,  he  was  quite  in  an  extasy 
with  you.  He  showed  me  all  the  new  books  he  had  just 
received  from  England,  which  he  thought  a  great  imposi- 
tion, they  being  big  books.     Edward  came  in,  and  they 


14  BOSTON   DAYS 


greeted  affectionately.  After  a  long  survey  he  exclaimed, 
''why,  Edward,  you  look  gross  —  take  care  of  the 
intellect !  "  .  .   . 

The  doctor,  in  the  simplicity  of  his  heart,  never  thinks 
of  feelings,  only  of  things,  as  Plato  would  say. 
Your  affectionate  sister, 

Mary. 

Dr.  Channing  was  the  great  preacher  of  that  day, 
and  Boston  society  was  largely  of  the  Unitarian,  or  the 
Orthodox  Congregational  Faith.  A  little  later  Theo- 
dore Parker's  great  work  was  to  come,  and  still  in  the 
undiscerned  future  lay  the  marvellous  influence  and 
power  of  Phillips  Brooks.  Music  was  already  a  factor 
in  social  life,  and  occasionally  a  Beethoven  symphony 
was  rendered.  Modern  languages  were  cultivated,  and 
with  the  ''  Conversation  Classes  "  of  Margaret  Fuller, 
and  the  influence  of  Dr.  Hedge  and  James  Freeman 
Clarke,  came  a  strong  impulse  toward  German  litera- 
ture. Margaret  Fuller  translated  Goethe's  "  Conver- 
sations with  Eckermann,"  and  Elizabeth  Peabody,  in 
her  bookstore,  imported  works  of  German  philosophy. 
^'In  fact,"  says  Mrs.  Howe,  recalling  those  days, 
"  Boston  had  a  reputation  for  pedantry  that  it  did  not 
desire  nor  deserve."  There  was,  according  to  Mrs. 
Howe's  recollections,  "  a  certain  reserve  which  charac- 
terized the  hospitalities  and  general  intercourse  of  that 
day.  In  the  Boston  of  that  time,"  she  continued, 
"the  gentlemen  of  business  did  not  go  far  from  the 
city  in  the  summer,  and  there  were  a  number  of  very 
beautiful  country  seats  in  the  neighborhood.     Strangers 


THE   CITY   OF   BEAUTIFUL   IDEALS  15 

comiDg  to  the  city  with  proper  iutroductions  were 
invited  to  visit  families  at  their  country  residences,  on 
which  occasions  they  were  generally  entertained  with 
fruit  and  wine,  the  afternoon  tea  being  then  undreamed 
of." 

Mr.  Allston  was  the  celebrated  painter  in  that  period. 
His  charm  of  presence  not  less  than  his  genius  drew 
around  him  a  beautiful  circle  in  which  Elizabeth  Peabody 
and  Franklin  Dana  were  among  his  nearest  friends,  and 
of  an  exhibition  of  his  work,  Miss  Peabody  wrote  :  — 

"  These  pictures  of  Allston's,  in  combination,  form  a 
great  whole,  which  has  a  peculiar  interest  as  a  ivhole. 
Almost  all  communication  of  one  mind  with  others  is 
partial.  You  are  made  aware  of  different  departments  at 
different  times.  But  here,  at  one  glance,  you  take  in 
the  whole  of  a  great  mind,  and  are  rendered  silent  in 
reverence." 

The  founding  of  the  Lowell  Institute,  whose  lecture 
courses  were  initiated  by  Edward  Everett,  on  the  last 
day  of  1839,  and  whose  work  has  from  that  date  to 
the  present  been  one  to  reveal  the  most  important 
discoveries  in  physics,  the  results  of  the  deepest  re- 
search into  history,  archaeology,  or  the  most  advanced 
thought  in  art,  literature,  and  philosophy,  —  was  an 
epoch-making  event.  From  this  platform  have  been 
heard  Dr.  Silliman,  Asa  Gray,  Agassiz,  Cornelius 
Conway  Felton,  Dr.  Holmes,  Lowell,  George  William 
Curtis,  Edwin  Percy  Whipple,  Professor  Benjamin 
Peirce,  Charles  Eliot  Norton,  Robert  C.  Winthrop, 
Edward  Everett  Hale,   William  Dean  Howells,    Prof 


16  BOSTON   DAYS 


John    Tjiidall,    Dr.    Brown-Sequard,  Proctor    the   as- 
tronomer, Charles  Francis  Adams,  Frank  B.  Sanborn 
Bayard  Taylor,  William  James,  pfere  et  fils,  General  Di 
Cesnola,  James  Freeman  Clarke,  Alfred  Russel  Wallace 
and,  in  later  years.  Professor  Lanciani,  Henry  A.  Clapp 
John  Fiske,  Dr.  Henry  Drummond,  Protap  Chunder  Mo 
zoomdar,   Prof.  William  T.  Sedgwick,  Percival  Lowell 
Rev.    Dr.   E.    Winchester   Donald,    Prof.  Arlo  Bates 
Felix  Adler,    Professor    Darwin   (the  son   of  Charles 
Darwin),    and    many    others   of  world-wide   fame. 
Of  the  early  decades  Dr.  Hale  has  said  :  — 

"Here  was  a  little  community,  even  quaint  in  some  of 
its  customs,  sure  of  Itself,  and  confident  in  its  future. 
Generally  speaking,  the  men  and  women  who  lived  in  it 
were  of  the  old  Puritan  stock.  This  means  that  they 
lived  to  the  glory  of  God,  with  the  definite  i)ublic  spirit 
which  belongs  to  such  life.  They  had,  therefore,  absolute 
confidence  that  God's  kingdom  was  to  come,  and  they  saw 
no  reason  why  it  should  not  come  soon.  As  a  direct  result 
of  this  belief  and  of  the  cosmopolitan  habit  which  comes 
to  people  who  send  their  ships  all  over  the  world,  the 
leaders  of  this  little  community  attempted  everything  on 
a  generous  scale.  If  they  made  a  school  for  the  blind, 
they  made  it  for  all  the  blind  people  in  Massachusetts. 
They  expected  to  succeed.  They  always  had  succeeded. 
Why  should  they  not  succeed  ?  If,  then,  they  opened  a 
^  House  of  Reformation,'  they  really  supposed  that  they 
should  reform  the  boys  and  girls  who  were  sent  to  it.  .  .  . 
There  was  not  an  'ism'  but  had  its  shrine,  nor  a  cause 
but  had  its  prophet.  .  .  .  The  town  was  so  small  that 
practically  everybody  knew  everybody.  '  A  town,'  as  a 
bright  man  used  to  say,  '  where  you  could  go  anywhere  in 


THE   CITY   OF  BEAUTIFUL   IDEALS  17 

ten  minutes.'  Lowell  could  talk  with  Wendell  Phillips, 
or  applaud  him  when  he  spoke.  He  could  go  into  Garri- 
son's printing-office  with  a  communication.  He  could 
discuss  metaphysics  or  ethics  with  Brownson,  and  hear 
a  Latter-Day  Church  preacher  on  Sunday.  He  could 
listen  while  Miller,  the  prophet  of  the  day,  explained 
from  Rollin's  History  and  the  Book  of  Daniel  that  the 
world  would  come  to  an  end  on  the  twenty-first  of  March, 
1842;  —  could  lounge  into  the  '  Corner  Bookstore,'  where 
James  T.  Fields  would  show  him  the  new  Tennyson,  or 
where  the  Mutual  Admiration  Society  would  leave  an 
epigram  or  two  behind;  or  hear  Everett  or  Holmes 
or  Parsons  or  Webster  read  poem  or  lecture  at  the 
'Odeon.'  He  could  discuss  with  a  partner  in  a  dance 
the  moral  significance  of  the  Fifth  Symphony  of  Bee- 
thoven in  comparison  with  the  lessons  of  the  Second 
or  the  Seventh.  Another  partner  in  the  next  quadrille 
would  reconcile  for  him  the  conflict  of  free  will  and  fore- 
knowledge. At  Miss  Peabody's  foreign  bookstore  he 
could  take  out  for  a  week  Strauss's  '  Leben  Jesu,'  if  he 
had  not  the  shekels  for  its  purchase,  as  probably  he  had 
not.  Or,  under  the  same  hospitable  roof,  he  could  in  the 
evening  hear  Hawthorne  tell  the  story  of  Parson  Moody's 
veil,  or  discuss  the  origin  of  the  Myth  of  Ceres  with 
Margaret  Fuller.  Or  when  he  danced  'the  pastorale' 
at  Judge  Jackson's,  was  he  renewing  the  memories  of  an 
Aryan  tradition,  or  did  the  figure  suggest,  more  likely, 
the  social  arrangements  of  the  followers  of  Hermann  ? 
Mr.  Emerson  lectured  for  him;  Allston's  pictures  were 
hung  in  galleries  for  him;  Mr.  Tudor  imported  ice  for 
him;  Fanny  Elssler  danced  for  him;  and  Braham  sang 
for  him.  The  world  worked  for  him  —  or  labored  for  him. 
And  he  entered  into  the  labors  of  all  sorts  and  conditions 
of  men.  .   .  . 


18  BOSTON   DAYS 


"  The  truth  was  that  literature  was  not  yet  a  profession. 
The  men  who  wrote  for  the  '  North  American  '  were  earn- 
ing their  bread  and  butter,  their  sheets,  blankets,  fuel, 
broadcloth,  shingles,  and  slates  in  other  enterprises. 
Emerson  was  an  exception;  and  perhaps  the  impression 
as  to  his  being  crazy  was  helped  by  the  observation  that 
these  '  things  which  perish  in  the  using '  came  to  him  in 
the  uncanny  and  unusual  channel  of  literary  workmanship. 
Even  Emerson  printed  in  the  '  North  American  Review ' 
lectures  which  had  been  delivered  elsewhere.  He  told  me 
in  1874,  after  he  had  returned  from  England,  that  he  had 
then  never  received  a  dollar  from  the  sale  of  any  of  his 
own  published  works.  He  said  he  owned  a  great  many 
copies  of  his  own  books,  but  that  these  were  all  the 
returns  which  he  had  received  from  his  publishers." 

In  the  decade  of  1840-50  the  Lowell  Institute 
courses  became  an  important  factor  in  Boston  life. 
Webster,  Everett,  Choate,  Channing,  Sumner,  Emer- 
son, Holmes,  and  Winthrop  lectured  on  its  platform.  In 
1845  Thomas  Starr  King  removed  to  Boston,  v^^here,  as 
a  friend  said,  "  his  rare  genius,  insight,  and  marvellous 
power  of  expression  gave  him  a  welcome  everywhere." 
It  was  in  1847  that  John  Amory  Lowell  invited  the 
noted  Agassiz  to  come  over  from  Switzerland  to  deliver 
a  course  of  lectures  before  the  Lowell  Institute.  Har- 
vard University  invited  the  great  naturalist  to  accept  a 
chair,  which  he  filled  with  a  power  that  radiated  far 
beyond  Cambridge  and  Boston,  leaving  its  impress  on 
the  world.  Most  fortunate  was  Professor  Agassiz  in 
his  marriage  to  Miss  Elizabeth  Gary  of  Milton,  a  lady 
of  beautiful  and  gracious  presence  who  entered  into  his 


THE   CITY   OF   BEAUTIFUL   IDEALS  19 

scientific  life  with  the  enthusiasm  of  a  scholar  and  gave 
to  him  ideal  companionship  of  thought  as  well  as  of 
affection.  Together  Professor  and  Mrs.  Agassiz  made 
a  memorable  trip  to  the  Andes,  where  over  a  period 
of  several  months  he  made  important  research.  Mrs. 
Agassiz  assisted  him  in  recording  the  results  of  his 
observations.  The  first  meeting  of  Longfellow  and 
Agassiz  is  noted  in  a  line  of  the  poet's  diary  under 
the  date  of  Jan.  9,  1847-  "  In  the  evening,"  writes  Mr. 
Longfellow,  "  there  was  a  reunion  at  Felton's  to  meet 
Mr.  Agassiz,  the  Swiss  geologist  and  naturalist,  a  pleas- 
ant, voluble  man,  with  a  beaming  face."  Some  months 
later  Mr.  Longfellow  gives  another  little  glimpse  of 
Agassiz  and  the  nearer  group  of  friends  in  this  entry 
in  his  diary :  — 

'  "  Agassiz,  Felton,  and  Sumner  to  dinner.  Agassiz  is 
very  pleasant,  affable,  simple.  We  all  drove  over  to 
South  Boston  to  take  tea  with  Mrs.  Howe." 

There  was  leisure  for  friendship  in  all  those  years, 
and  when  the  fiftieth  birthday  of  Agassiz  came  (May  28, 
1857),  it  was  celebrated  by  a  dinner  given  him  at  Par- 
ker's by  fourteen  of  his  nearer  friends,  Mr.  Longfellow 
presiding.  Dr.  Holmes  and  Lowell  both  read  poems 
written  for  the  occasion  and  that  of  Longfellow  (en- 
titled "  The  Fiftieth  Birthday  of  Agassiz ")  will  be 
found  in  his  poetical  works.  It  was  about  1859  that 
the  Agassiz  Museum  at  Harvard  was  founded.  A 
foreign  visitor  in  Boston  about  this  time,  writing  of 
the  circle  of  friends  met  at  Mr.  Longfellow's,  thus 
refers  to  the  great  Swiss  naturalist:  — 


20  BOSTON   DAYS 


"  And  often,  too,  comes  Agassiz,  with  his  gentle  and 
genial  spirit,  his  childlike  devotion  to  science,  and  —  or 
he  would  not  be  a  true  son  of  his  adopted  country  —  his 
eager  interest  in  the  politics  of  the  day.  .  .  .  Between 
the  Poet  and  the  Naturalist  there  exists  a  very  warm 
friendship,  and  among  other  poetical  tributes,  Mr.  Long- 
fellow has  achieved  the  feat  —  for  so  it  must  seem  to  us, 
with  our  rigid  English  tongues  —  of  addressing  to  his 
friend,  in  the  October  number  of  the  'Atlantic  Monthly/ 
a  gay  and  graceful  chanson  in  his  native  language." 

On  the  departure   of  Professor   Agassiz  for  Brazil 

(ill  1865)  Dr.  Holmes,  Lowell,  Longfellow,  and  other 

friends  gave  him  a  farewell  dinner,  at  which  Dr.  Holmes 

read  a  humorous  poem  whose  opening  lines  run  :  — 

"  How  the  mountains  talk  together, 
Looking  out  upon  the  weather. 
When  they  heard  our  friend  had  planned  his 
Little  trip  among  the  Andes ! 
How  they  '11  bare  their  snowy  scalps 
To  the  climber  of  the  Alps 
When  the  cry  goes  through  their  passes, 
'  Here  now  comes  the  great  Agassiz  ! '  " 

In  later  years,  when  the  Emperor  Dom  Pedro  of 
Brazil  visited  Boston,  he  was  asked  to  choose  the  guests 
at  a  dinner  to  be  given  in  his  honor,  and  he  named 
Agassiz,  Holmes,  Emerson,  and  Lowell.  Dr.  Hale  has 
noted  that  with  the  arrival  of  Agassiz  in  America  there 
was  ended  the  poor  habit  of  studying  nature  through 
the  eyes  of  other  observers. 

Agassiz  died  in  1873,  and  in  the  beautiful  commemo- 
rative ode  written  for  him  by  Lowell  the  lines  occur  : 

"  His  look,  wherever  its  good-fortune  fell. 
Doubled  the  feast  without  a  miracle." 


THE   CITY   OF   BEAUTIFUL   IDEALS  21 

Transcendentalism  was  a  spiritual  impulse  greatly 
stimulated  by  the  German  study  and  reading  that  took 
such  hold  on  Margaret  Fuller,  James  Freeman  Clarke, 
Frederic  Henry  Hedge,  George  Ripley,  Elizabeth 
Peabody  and  others  in  the  decade  of  1830-40.  In  the 
latter  year  "  The  Dial  "  was  started ;  and  an  autograph 
letter  from  Emerson  to  Elizabeth  Peabody,  without 
date,  but  necessarily  written  between  1840  and  1843 
(as  "  The  Dial  "  only  lived  three  years),  is  as  follows  : 

"  Can  Miss  Peabody  oblige  '  The  Dial'  (just  ready  for 
extreme  unction)  so  far  as  to  send  the  first  of  these  two 
proofs  directly  to  the  printers?  On  page  480  occurs  the 
phrase,  '  a  dead  leveller,'  Is  the  phrase  a  considered 
one  ?  I  don't  like  the  sound  of  it  very  well,  but  it  may 
be  right." 

Channing's  influence  was  a  potent  one,  reaching  from 
the  early  years  of  the  century;  Theodore  Parker  also 
began  to  be  felt  as  a  great  power  about  1840 ;  he  was 
almost  the  Savonarola  of  his  day.  Thoreau  and 
Bronson  Alcott  were  unique  personalities  and  a  law 
unto  themselves.  "The  acorn-eating  Alcott,"  wrote 
Emerson  of  him  to  Carlyle,  yet  no  one  ever  more  fully 
appreciated  another  than  did  Emerson  his  Socratic 
neighbor.  About  1840  the  famous  "Brook  Farm" 
experiment  was  inaugurated,  and  its  constitution  stated 
its  aim  at  an  effort  "  to  promote  more  effectually  the 
great  objects  of  human  culture,"  and  "to  establish  the 
external  relations  of  life  on  a  basis  of  wisdom  and 
purity." 


22  BOSTON   DAYS 


In  1841  Hawthorne  wrote  from  Brook  Farm  to  a 
friend :  — 

''  I  have  milked  a  cow.  The  herd  has  rebelled  against 
the  usurpation  of  Miss  Fuller's  heifer,  and  whenever  they 
are  turned  out  of  the  barn  she  is  compelled  to  take  refuge 
with  me.  She  is  not  an  amiable  cow,  but  has  an  intelligent 
face  and  a  reflective  cast  of  character." 

Lowell,  and  others  of  the  intellectual  cult  of  that 
period^  were  extremely  simple  in  outward  life.  It  is 
authentically  recorded  that  Mrs.  Hawthorne  having 
bought  a  broom  carried  it  home  in  her  hand  walking 
across  the  Common,  and  that  Julia  Ward  Howe,  escorted 
by  Motley,  walked  home  from  a  ball.  Mrs.  Edwin  P. 
Whipple  tells  a  pretty  story  of  a  visit  of  herself  and  her 
husband  to  the  Hawthornes  in  the  red  house  at  Lenox, 
when  Mr.  Hawthorne  and  Mr.  Whipple  went  out  in 
the  garden  and  picked  currants  for  tea ;  Mrs.  Haw- 
thorne made  biscuit,  and  Mrs.  Whipple  laid  the 
table.  But  were  not  currants  and  biscuit  and  tea  a 
feast  for  the  gods  when  the  Hawthornes  and  the 
Whipples  sat  down  to  this  nectar  and  ambrosia  ? 

The  poet  Longfellow  had  married  the  daughter  of  a 
wealthy  house,  —  Miss  Frances  Appleton,  who  brought 
to  the  young  poet  the  prestige  of  wealth  and  caste, 
while  his  widening  horizon  gave  to  her  in  after  years 
the  immortality  of  a  poet's  love.  Mrs.  Longfellow  was 
a  woman  of  great  personal  charm,  of  fine  culture,  and 
the  old  "  Craigie  House  "  became  one  of  the  most  noted 
of  literary  homes. 


THE   CITY   OF   BEAUTIFUL   IDEALS  23 

The  life  of  letters  and  art,  of  transcendental  philo- 
sophy and  speculative  thought,  and  of  reform  had  each 
its  distinctive  currents,  yet  largely  meeting  and  occa- 
sionally identical  each  with  the  other. 

The  Boston  literati  really  belong  to  the  nation, 
and  the  interest  of  their  lives  is  in  no  sense  local. 
The  chronology  of  literary  Boston  extends  even  from 
the  day  of  Anne  Bradstreet  to  that  of  the  present, 
with  innumerable  shadings  and  breaks  and  interrela- 
tions. The  antislavery  excitement  and  the  civil  war 
came  in  with  a  force  that  can  hardly  be  dreamed 
of  in  reading  the  literary  and  social  history  of  those 
times;  it  requires  the  presence  and  voice  of  some  of 
those  who  w^ere  actors  in  the  drama  to  convey  any 
adequate  idea  of  the  way  society  was  divided  against 
itself  in  ardent  espousal  of  wrong  as  well  as  right.  In 
the  light  of  the  present  day  it  seems  incredible  to  assert 
that  Wendell  Phillips  was  fairly  ostracized  by  polite 
society  in  Boston  for  his  espousal  of  antislavery ;  that 
Garrison  was  dragged  by  a  rope  through  the  streets,  — 
where  now  his  statue,  lifesize,  sits  enthroned,  —  and 
that  Lydia  Maria  Child  was  denied  the  entrSe  to  the 
Athenaeum  Library  because  she  had  published  her  book 
entitled  "  An  Appeal  for  that  Class  of  Americans  called 
Africans."  Equally  absurd  does  it  seem  to  learn  that 
Mrs.  Howe  took  her  life  in  her  hands,  socially  speaking, 
when  she  first  attended  a  "  Woman's  Rights  "  —  lately 
woman  suffrage  —  convention.  She  herself  relates  the 
incident  —  which  was  to  have  such  a  controlling  effect 
on  general  progress  —  with  infinite  humor.     Reports 


24  BOSTON   DAYS 


of  the  absurdity  and  audacity  of  the  "  woman's  rights  " 
clique  pervaded  the  town  and  challenged  Mrs.  Howe's 
keen  sense  of  justice.  So  she  fared  forth  to  investigate 
for  herself,  although  more  than  predisposed  to  believe 
in  the  absurdity.  She  went,  she  saw,  and  she  was 
conquered,  and  convinced  as  well,  by  the  sweet  voice, 
the  radiant  presence,  and  the  invincible  logic  of  Lucy 
Stone,  and  she  went  out  to  take  up  her  new  and 
greater  life  of  conquering  larger  territory  for  the  reform 
and  status  of  women.  Yet  before  Lucy  Stone  initiated 
the  "movement''  for  the  larger  life  of  women,  Margaret 
Fuller  and  Elizabeth  Peabody  were  living  it,  and  realiz- 
ing in  outward  experience  the  higher  outlook  of  intel- 
lectual freedom.  Many  varieties  of  progress  contribute 
to  social  advancement. 

We  find  Sophia  Peabody  writing  to  her  sister 
Elizabeth  a  typical  record  of  the  quality  of  life  in  those 
days  in  the  following  :  — 

"  I  went  to  my  hammock  with  Xenophon.  Socrates 
was  divinest,  after  Jesus  Christ,  I  think.  He  lived  up 
to  his  thought.^' 

With  such  themes  as  these  life  concerned  itself 
Mr.  Frothingham  regards  the  publication  of  Emer- 
son's "Nature"  in  1836  as  the  entering  wedge  of  the 
transcendental  movement.  The  movement  might,  in- 
deed, have  well  been  initiated  by  that  wonderful  insight 
which  the  Seer  of  Concord  thus  expresses :  "  We  are 
escorted  on  every  hand  through  life  by  spiritual  agents, 
and  a  beneficent  purpose  lies  in  wait  for  us. "     Two  years 


THE    CITY   OF   BEAUTIFUL   IDEALS  25 

later  Emerson  deepened  the  impression  made  by  his 
"Nature"  by  his  famous  address  before  the  Divinity 
School  of  Cambridge,  —  an  address  that  provoked  an 
attack  from  Prof.  Andrews  Norton  (the  father  of 
Charles  Eliot  Norton),  who  saw  in  it  "  the  latest  form 
of  infidelity."  In  the  mean  time,  Emerson's  lectures 
grew  more  frequent,  and  his  "  Spiritual  Laws,"  "  Com- 
pensation," "  Circles,"  and  "  Transcendentalism  "  were 
delivered  before  audiences  who  regarded  these  dis- 
courses as  vital  messages.  In  the  latter  lecture  Emer- 
son said:  — 

"  The  Transcendentalist  adopts  the  whole  connection  of 
spiritual  doctrine.  He  believes  in  miracles,  in  the  per- 
petual openness  of  the  human  mind  to  new  influx  of 
light  and  power ;  he  believes  in  inspiration  and  ecstasy. 
He  wishes  that  the  spiritual  principle  should  be  suffered 
to  demonstrate  itself  to  the  end,  in  all  possible  applica- 
tions to  the  state  of  man,  without  the  admission  of  any- 
thing unspiritual,  that  is,  anything  positive,  dogmatic, 
personal." 

When,  in  "The  Over-soul,"  Emerson  told  his  hearers 
that  "  The  soul  looketh  steadily  forward,  creating  a 
world  before  her,  leaving  worlds  behind  her,"  and  that 
"  the  web  of  events  is  the  flowing  robe  in  which  she  is 
clothed,"  these  revelations  of  the  true  nature  of  life 
formed  the  exclusive  topic  of  conversation  for  many 
days. 

All  this  faith  and  fervor  and  mysticism  that  were  in 
the  air  demanded  a  channel  of  expression  beyond  that 
of  the  pulpit  and  the  platform ;  and  so  "  The  Dial  "  came 


26  BOSTON    DAYS 


into  existence,  a  quarterly  magazine  that  had  less  than 
four  years'  tenure  of  life,  issuing  only  some  fifteen 
numbers,  and  which  yet  left  an  indelible  impress  on 
the  progress  of  thought.  The  special  priest  and 
priestess  of  these  Eleusinian  mysteries  —  Emerson  and 
Margaret  Fuller  —  were  its  editors,  and  their  corps  of 
fellow-conspirators,  as  Prof.  Andrews  Norton  regarded 
them,  —  the  apostles  of  '^  the  latest  form  of  infidelity," 
—  included  Elizabeth  Peabody,  James  Freeman  Clarke, 
George  Ripley,  William  Henry  Channing,  Theodore 
Parker,  Christopher  P.  Cranch,  and  others. 

Mr.  Cranch  was  an  artist  and  poet ;  a  man  of  singular 
purity  and  beauty  of  life  and  clearness  of  spiritual 
vision.  One  poem  of  his  should  be  held  in  living 
memory,  of  which  the  opening  stanza  runs :  — 

"  We  are  spirits,  clad  in  veils ; 
Man  by  man  was  never  seen  ; 
All  our  deep  communion  fails 
.  To  remove  the  shadowy  screen." 

The  poems  of  Emerson  were  from  time  to  time 
appearing  in  ^*  The  Dial,"  —  largely  received  with  the 
unpenetrating  awe  vsdth  which  the  average  tourist  reads 
an  Assyrian  inscription,  —  poems  with  such  lines  as 
these :  — 

"  A  spell  is  laid  on  sod  and  stone  ; 

Night  and  Day  were  tampered  with, 

Every  quality  and  pith 

Surcharged  and  sultry  with  a  power 

That  works  its  will  on  age  and  hour." 


Or  again :  — 


THE   CITY   OF   BEAUTIFUL    IDEALS  27 

"The  living  Heaven  thy  prayers  respect, 
House  at  once  and  architect, 
Quarrying  man's  rejected  hours, 
Builds  therewith  eternal  towers ; 
Sole  and  self-commanded  works. 
Fears  not  undermining  days, 
Grows  by  decays, 

And,  by  the  famous  might  that  lurks 
In  reaction  and  recoil, 
Makes  flame  to  freeze,  and  ice  to  boil." 

Emerson  was  offering  the  message  that 

"  There  is  no  great  and  no  small 
To  the  Soul  that  knoweth  all ;  " 

or  he  was   giving  the  wise   counsel  in  the  ^^Sursum 

Corda":  — 

"  Seek  not  the  spirit  if  it  hide 
Inexorable  to  thy  zeal; 
Trembler,  do  not  whine  and  chide; 
Art  thou  not  also  real  ?  " 

Or  he  enjoined  on  his  followers :  — 

"  Eat  thou  the  bread  which  men  refuse. 
Flee  from  the  goods  which  from  thee  flee  ; 
Seek  nothing,  —  Fortune  seeketh  thee. 
Nor  mount,  nor  dive ;  all  good  things  keep 
The  midway  of  the  eternal  deep." 

Everywhere  he  taught  the  supremacy  of  the  soul; 
that  facts  and  events  were  ^^ fluid"  to  this  supreme 
potency.  He  pictured  the  flowing  events  of  life^  — 
the  circumstance  and  condition  as  the  mere  transient 
scenery  through  which  the  soul  is  making  her  pilgrimage. 
"  The  soul  is  ceaselessly  joyful/'  he  affirmed,  and  herein 


28  BOSTON    DAYS 


is  one  of  the  greatest  of  insights,  which,  if  truly  realized 
and  merged  into  experience,  makes  the  realization  an 
absolute  epoch  in  life. 

Emerson,  whom  Dr.  Holmes  aptly  called  "  the  Buddha 
of  the  West,"  continued  his  lectures ;  and  of  one  of  these 
lectures  we  find  Lowell  humorously  saying :  — 

"  Emerson's  oration  was  more  disjointed  even  than 
usual.  It  began  nowhere  and  ended  everywhere;  and 
yet,  as  always  with  that  divine  man,  it  left  you  feeling 
that  something  beautiful  had  passed  that  way,  something 
more  beautiful  than  anything  else,  like  the  rising  and  set- 
ting of  stars.  .  .  .  He  boggled,  he  lost  his  place,  he  had 
to  put  on  his  glasses  ;  but  it  was  as  if  a  creature  from 
some  fairer  world  had  lost  his  way  in  our  fogs,  and  it 
was  our  fault  and  not  his.  It  was  chaotic,  but  it  was  all 
such  stuff  as  stars  are  made  of,  and  you  could  not  help 
feeling  that  if  you  waited  awhile  all  that  was  nebulous 
would  be  hurled  into  planets,  and  would  assume  the 
mathematical  gravity  of  system." 

The  social  life  was  ideally  full  and  rich  in  constant 
intercourse,  and  a  little  note  from  Emerson  to  Sophia 
Peabody  is  again  indicative  of  its  trend :  — 

.  .  .  "Our  common  friend,  Mr.  Alcott,  the  prince  of 
conversers,  lives  little  more  than  a  mile  from  our  house, 
and  we  will  call  in  his  aid,  as  we  often  do,  to  make 
amends  for  our  deficiency,  when  you  come.  Will  you  say 
to  your  sister  Elizabeth  that  I  received  her  kind  letter 
relating  to  certain  high  matters,  which  I  have  not  yet 
been  in  the  vein  to  answer,  — indeed,  I  dreamed  that  she 
knows  all  my  answer  to  that  question,  —  has  it  already  in 
her  rich  suggestion,  and  only  waits  for  mine  to  see  how 
they  will  tally." 


THE   CITY   OF   BEAUTIFUL   IDEALS  29 

Elizabeth  Peabodj,  who  is  visiting  Mr.  Emerson,  thus 
writes  to  her  sister  Sophia :  — 

Concord,  Mass,  June  23,  1839. 

Here  I  am  on  the  Mount  of  Transfiguration,  but  very 
much  in  the  condition  of  the  disciples  when  they  were 
prostrate  in  the  dust.  ...  I  went  to  Allston's  on  Tues- 
day evening.  He  was  in  delightful  spirits,  but  soft  as  a 
summer  evening.  ...  I  carried  to  him  a  volume  of 
"Twice  Told  Tales"  to  exchange  for  mine.  He  said  he 
thirsted  for  imaginative  writing,  and  all  the  family  have 
read  the  book  with  great  delight.  I  am  really  provoked 
that  I  did  not  bring  "  The  Token  "with  me,  so  as  to  have 
"The  Mermaid"  and  "The  Haunted  Mind"  to  read  to 
people.  I  was  hardly  seated  here,  after  tea  yesterday, 
before  Mr.  Emerson  asked  me  what  I  had  to  say  of 
Hawthorne,  and  told  me  that  Mr.  Bancroft  said  he  was 
the  most  efficient  and  best  of  the  Custom  House  officers. 
Mr.  Emerson  seemed  all  congenial  about  him,  but  has 
not  yet  read  his  writings.  He  is  in  a  delightful  state  of 
mind ;  not  yet  rested  from  last  winter's  undue  labors, 
but  keenly  industrious.  He  has  uttered  no  heresies  about 
Mr.  AUston,  but  only  beautiful  things,  —  dwelling,  how- 
ever, on  his  highest  merits  least.  He  says  Jones  Very 
forbids  all  correcting  of  his  verses ;  but  nevertheless  he 
[Emerson]  selects  and  combines  with  sovereign  will,  "  and 
shall,"  he  says,  "  make  out  quite  a  little  gem  of  a  volume." 
"  But,"  says  he,  "  Hawthorne  says  Very  is  always  vain. 
I  find  I  cannot  forget  that  dictum  which  you  repeated ; 
but  it  is  continually  confirmed  by  himself,  amidst  all  his 
sublimities."  And  then  he  repeated  some  of  Very's 
speeches  and  told  how  he  dealt  with  him.  Mr.  Emerson 
is  very  luminous,  and  wiser  than  ever.  Oh,  he  is  beauti- 
ful, and  good,  and  great ! 


30  BOSTON   DAYS 


We  find  Hawthorne  writing  to  Sophia  Peabody,  his 

fiancee :  — 

6  o'clock,  P.M. 

"  What  a  wonderful  vision  that  is,  —  the  dream  angel. 
I  do  esteem  it  almost  a  miracle  that  your  pencil  should 
unconsciously  have  produced  it ;  it  is  as  much  an  appari- 
tion of  an  ethereal  being  as  if  the  heavenly  face  and  form 
had  been  shadowed  forth  in  the  air,  instead  of  upon 
paper.  It  seems  to  me  that  it  is  our  guardian  angel,  who 
kneels  at  the  footstool  of  God,  and  is  pointing  to  us  upon 
earth,  and  asking  earthly  and  heavenly  blessings  for  us,  — 
entreating  that  we  may  not  much  longer  be  divided,  that 
we  may  sit  by  our  own  fireside." 

"  Thought  is  the  wages 
For  which  I  sell  days." 

The  period  known  as  Transcendentalism  in  New 
England  has  been  alike  the  subject  of  mystery,  ridicule, 
admiration,  and  serious  study.  Perhaps  it  has  never 
been  more  perfectly  defined  than  by  Mrs.  Caroline  H. 
Dall,  who  says  that  it  is  an  arc,  one  end  of  which  was 
held  by  Anne  Hutchinson  and  the  other  by  Margaret 
Fuller. 

The  arc  might,  however,  be  still  more  widely  extended 
in  its  true  spiritual  inclusiveness  if  one  contemplates  it 
in  the  light  of  that  deeper  realization  expressed  by  the 
poet,  that,  — 

"...  Through  the  ages,  one  increasing  purpose  runs, 
And  the  thoughts  of  men  are  widened  with  the  progress  of  the 
suns." 

Life  is  but  another  name  for  spiritual  evolu- 
tion.    Every   process   and   achievement  are  but  steps 


THE   CITY   OF   BEAUTIFUL   IDEALS  31 

in  the  vast  and  sublime  work  of  the  liberation  of  the 
spirit. 

The  special  period  in  Boston,  however,  designated  by 
Transcendentalism  lies  easily  between  the  two  decades  of 
1830-50,  during  which  time  Margaret  Fuller  held  her 
"  Conversation  Classes,"  Mr.  Ripley  and  his  associates 
luxuriated  at  Brook  Farm,  and  Mr.  Alcott  amazed  the 
educational  world  by  the  original  methods  in  his  school 
whose  curious  processes  were  recorded  by  Elizabeth 
Peabody. 

Dr.  Bartol  was  eleven  years  the  junior  of  George 
Ripley,  but  he  was  associated  with  him  as  one  of  the 
original  members  of  the  Transcendental  Club,  whose 
initial  meeting  was  held  (in  September  of  1836)  in 
Mr.  Ripley's  house.  There  were  present  Emerson, 
Alcott,  Dr.  Channing,  Dr.  Hedge,  James  Freeman 
Clarke,  Orestes  A.  Brownson,  and  Convers  Francis,  a 
brother  of  Lydia  Maria  Child.  A  year  later  Margaret 
Fuller,  Theodore  Parker,  and  Elizabeth  Peabody  were 
added  to  the  numbers.  Theology,  revelation,  and  in- 
spiration were  the  chief  themes  that  fascinated  their 
meditations.  "  The  conversation  turned  on  a  few  central 
ideas,"  said  one  of  the  habitues,  —  "  Law,  Truth,  Indi- 
viduality, and  the  Personality  of  God."  The  problems 
of  civilization  engaged  the  attention  of  Mr.  Ripley  and 
Dr.  Channing  very  closely,  and  elicited  ''  great  power  of 
thought  and  richness  and  eloquence  "  in  their  discus- 
sion, —  an  eloquence  which  Theodore  Parker  declared 
"  would  equal  any  of  the  beautiful  dialogues  of  Plato." 

George  Ripley  —  born  in  Greenfield,  Mass.,  in  1802  — 


32  BOSTON   DAYS 


was  one  of  the  remarkable  men  of  the  preceding  century. 
Graduating  from  Harvard  at  the  age  of  twenty-one,  he 
soon  became  the  pastor  of  an  Unitarian  society  in 
Boston.  At  this  time  Dr.  Channing  was  preaching  in 
Federal  Street,  F.  W.  P.  Greenwood  at  King's  Chapel, 
Francis  Parkman  the  elder,  in  Hanover  Street,  John 
Pierrepont  in  Hollis  Street,  and  Charles  Lowell,  the 
father  ol  the  poet,  was  the  pastor  of  the  old  West 
Church  in  Lynde  Street. 

It  was  as  the  original  founder  of  the  community 
known  as  Brook  Farm  that  Mr.  Ripley  has  been  chiefly 
temembered,  although  this  episode  in  his  career  is  not 
entitled  to  pre-eminence  over  his  work  as  a  literary 
man  and  a  preacher.  Social  reform  was  in  the  air  in 
1840  as  prominently  as  is  now  the  labor  question,  — 
each  movement  having  for  its  basis  a  desire  for  the 
improvement  of  humanity. 

In  the  air,  too,  was  one  magic  name,  —  a  name  to  con- 
jure with,  for  Margaret  Fuller  was  not  so  much  merely 
or  even  mostly  the  literary  woman,  as  she  was  a  great 
force  in  life.  It  has  been  asserted  that  she  was  not 
only  the  greatest  woman  of  letters  in  America,  but  the 
only  one  who  ever  produced  work  of  any  consequence. 
This  extravagant  statement  has  led  not  unnaturally  to 
contradiction  equally  extravagant  by  those  who  seem  to 
possess  no  true  recognition  of  her  real  greatness.  A 
close  student  of  profound,  original  power,  of  a  wide  and 
exquisite  culture,  a  fully  trained  and  philosophic  mind, 
and  a  gift  that  can  perhaps  best  be  described  as  divina- 
tion, —  in  these  Margaret  Fuller  was  supreme.     In  her 


THE   CITY   OF  BEAUTIFUL   IDEALS  SS 

writings  there  is  the  quality  of  greatness,  there  is  a 
depth  of  spiritual  insight,  there  is  a  high  order  of 
thought,  for  which,  indeed,  too  high  appreciation  can 
hardly  be  claimed.  Yet  on  the  other  hand  she  lacked 
form,  lacked  artistic  expression,  the  records  she  has  left 
are  meagre  in  quantity,  and  indeed  the  true  view  of 
Margaret  Fuller  is  perhaps  that  she  was  one  of  the 
greatest  and  the  most  exalted  spirits  ever  sent  into  this 
world,  whose  brief  life  here,  in  a  constant  conflict  with 
conditions,  did  not  give  her  time  or  opportunity  for  the 
development  of  her  essential  self.  All  her  aims  and 
hopes  transcended  the  sphere  of  ordinary  life.  Her 
literary  work,  too,  is  the  work  of  a  woman  whose  life 
up  to  the  age  of  thirty  was  almost  entirely  occupied  in 
teaching  and  who  died  at  forty.  Her  greatest  literary 
achievement,  "  History  of  Italy,"  was  lost  in  the  ship- 
wreck which  swallowed  up  her  life  and  that  of  her 
husband  and  child. 

Margaret  Fuller  was  born  in  Cambridge  on  May  23, 
1810,  and  died  in  the  shipwreck  off  Fire  Island,  New 
York,  July  19,  1850.  She  was  a  precocious  child, 
reading  Latin  at  six,  and  familiar  from  her  nursery  days 
with  the  great  literature  of  the  world.  Her  life  as  a 
teacher  was  full  of  arduous  care.  She  supported  her 
invalid  mother,  sent  two  of  her  brothers  through  college, 
and  domestic  life  and  cares  weighed  heavily  on  her, 
yet  all  this  time  her  student  life  surpassed  an  acquire- 
ment of  that  of  almost  any  modem  girl  at  college  with 
no  care  or  claim  upon  her  save  that  of  study  alone. 

She  was  thirty- five  years  of  age  when  she  went 
3 


34  BOSTON   DAYS 


abroad.  A  year  later  she  became  the  wife  of  the 
Marquis  d'Ossoli.  In  1847  her  son  Augelo  Eugene  was 
born,  and  three  years  later  her  life  on  earth,  with  all  its 
historic  and  tragic  story,  was  over.  Thus  it  will  be  seen 
how  little  of  that  literary  leisure,  that  calm  margin  of 
creative  thought,  fell  to  her  lot.  The  only  wonder  is 
that  she  left  any  literary  work  at  all,  and,  as  she  her- 
self said,  the  pen  in  her  hand  was  a  non-conductor. 
Margaret  Fuller  was  indeed  a  muse,  a  sibyl,  an  impro- 
visatrice,  rather  than  a  literary  woman  in  the  restricted 
sense  of  producing  literature.  She  was  a  great  force, 
an  elemental  power  in  life.  She  was  the  diviner  of 
mental  states  and  the  inspirer  of  nobler  aims.  ^'  All  the 
good  I  have  ever  done,"  she  once  said,  "  has  been  by 
calling  on  every  nature  for  its  highest."  In  this,  the 
calling  on  every  nature  for  its  highest,  lay  the  secret, 
too,  of  the  potent  influence  of  Phillips  Brooks.  That 
was  his  gift.  He  recognized  the  ideal  in  every  man,  and 
to  that  he  appealed. 

James  Freeman  Clarke  has  said  of  Margaret ;  — 

"  She  was  indeed  the  friend.  This  was  her  vocation. 
She  bore  at  her  girdle  a  golden  key  to  unlock  all  caskets 
of  confidence.  Into  whatever  home  she  entered  she 
brought  a  benediction  of  truth,  justice,  tolerance,  and 
honor,  and  to  every  one  who  sought  her  to  confer  or  seek 
counsel  she  spoke  the  needed  word  of  benignant  wisdom." 

Her  published  works  are  comprised  in  five  volumes : 
"  Summer  on  the  Lakes,"  "  Woman  in  the  Mneteenth 
Century,"  a  volume  of  literary  reviews  entitled  "  Art, 
Literature,  and  the  Drama,"  and  two  volumes  of  miscel- 


THE   CITY   OF   BEAUTIFUL   IDEALS  35 

laneous  papers,  "  Life  Without  and  Within/'  and  "  At 
Home  and  Abroad."  But  it  is  indeed  more  than  a 
question  as  to  whether  she  can  be  truly  recognized  as  a 
writer  alone  until  the  reader  comes  into  a  certain  sym- 
pathetic comprehension  of  her  very  remarkable  per- 
sonality, which  was  truly  an  embodiment  of  the  rarest 
genius.  In  the  stimulating  atmosphere  of  Cambridge, 
Margaret  Fuller  grew  into  womanhood.  Her  father, 
himself  a  university  man,  encouraged  her  precocious 
intellect.  She  was  taught  the  Latin  and  English  gram- 
mar at  the  same  time,  and  reading  Latin  at  six  was 
absorbed  in  Shakspeare  at  the  age  of  eight,  and  about 
the  same  time  Cervantes,  Coleridge,  and  Moli^re  fasci- 
nated her.  Before  she  was  twenty  she  was  giving  daily 
lessons  in  three  languages,  steeping  herself  in  German 
philosophy,  in  ethics,  in  history.  The  comparatively 
small  amount  of  literary  work  that  she  has  left  makes 
this  form  of  expression  a  merely  incidental  one  in  her  life. 
In  one  quality  it  is  possible  that  absolute  literary  pre- 
eminence may  be  affirmed  of  her,  that  of  profundity. 
She  drew  from  the  deepest  wells  of  thought,  and  this 
stamped  her  work  with  an  impressiveness  that  contrasts 
vividly  with  that  which  is  the  mere  product  of  native 
facility  conjoined  with  literary  tastes  and  scholarly 
acquirement.  She  had  the  power  by  some  subtle 
alchemy  to  transmute  any  truth  into  a  thought  crystal 
worthy  to  be  held  as  a  law.  Her  ideals,  her  tempera- 
ment, and  her  circumstances  kept  up  a  continued  con- 
flict among  themselves.  Good  health,  too,  which  is  a 
very  rational  factor  in  life,  was  unknown  to  her ;   but 


36  BOSTON   DAYS 


her  sincerity,  her  magnanimity,  her  truth,  her  exaltation 
of  spirit,  her  true  humility,  —  in  short,  her  nobility  of 
soul  never  faltered.  Her  life  was  greater  than  her 
work. 

Mrs.  Browning,  meeting  her  in  Florence,  said  in  a 
letter  to  Miss  Mitford,— 

"A  very  interesting  person  is  Madame  d'Ossoli,  far 
better  than  her  writings,  —  thoughtful,  spiritual  in  her 
habitual  mood  of  mind ;  not  only  exalted  but  exaltee  in 
her  opinions,   and  yet  calm  in  manner." 

Again,  Mrs.  Browning  said  of  Madame  d'Ossoli  after 
her  death :  — 

"  She  was  a  most  interesting  woman  to  me,  though  I  did 
not  sympathize  with  a  large  portion  of  her  opinions.  Her 
written  works  are  just  naught.  She  said  herself  they  were 
sketches  thrown  out  in  haste,  and  that  the  sole  produc- 
tion of  hers  which  was  likely  to  represent  her  at  all  would 
be  the  '  History  of  the  Italian  Revolution.'  In  fact,  her 
reputation  such  as  it  was  in  America  seemed  to  stand 
mainly  on  her  conversation  and  oral  lectures.  If  I 
wished  any  one  to  do  her  justice  I  should  say,  as  I  have 
indeed  said,  '  never  read  what  she  has  written.'  The 
letters,  however,  are  individual  and  full,  I  should  fancy, 
of  that  magnetic  i^ersonal  influence  which  was  so  strong 
with  her.  I  felt  drawn  in  toward  her  during  our  short 
intercourse ;  I  loved  her,  and  the  circumstances  of  her 
death  shock  me  to  the  very  roots  of  my  heart." 

Madame  d'Ossoli  passed  her  last  evening  in  Italy  with 
the  Brownings  before  sailing  on  that  voyage  whose  end 
lay  in  the  unseen  realm. 


THE   CITY   OF   BEAUTIFUL   IDEALS  37 

The  friendships  of  Margaret  Fuller  were  the  most 
potent  experiences  in  her  life  and  these  were  very  largely 
the  channels  of  her  spiritual  activity.  James  Freeman 
Clarke  says  of  her  genius  for  friendship  :  — 

"  The  insight  which  Margaret  displayed  in  finding  her 
friends,  the  magnetism  by  which  she  drew  them  toward 
herself,  the  catholic  range  of  her  intimacies,  the  influence 
which  she  exercised  to  develop  the  latent  germ  in  every 
character,  the  constancy  with  which  she  clung  to  each 
when  she  had  once  given  and  received  confidence,  the 
delicate  justice  which  kept  every  intimacy  separate,  and 
the  process  of  transfiguration  which  took  place  when  she 
met  any  one  on  this  mountain  of  Friendship,  giving  a 
dazzling  lustre  to  the  details  of  common  life,  —  all  these 
should  be  at  least  touched  upon  and  illustrated  to  give 
any  adequate  view  of  her  in  these  relations. 

..."  She  saw  when  any  one  belonged  to  her  and  never 
rested  until  she  came  into  possession  of  her  property.  .  .  . 
Margaret's  constancy  to  any  genuine  relation  once  estab- 
lished was  surprising.  If  her  friends'  aim  changed  so  as 
to  take  them  out  of  her  sphere,  she  was  saddened  by  it  and 
did  not  let  them  go  without  a  struggle,  but  whenever  they 
continued  '  true  to  the  original  standard,'  as  she  phrased 
it,  her  affectionate  interest  would  follow  them  unimpaired 
through  all  the  changes  of  life.  ^  Great  and  even  fatal 
errors  (so  far  as  this  life  is  concerned)  could  not  destroy 
my  friendship  for  one  in  whom  I  am  sure  of  the  kernel  of 
nobleness.'  She  never  formed  a  friendship  until  she  had 
seen  and  known  this  germ  of  good,  and  afterward  judged 
conduct  by  it.  To  this  germ  of  good,  the  highest  law  of 
each  individual,  she  held  them  true.  But  never  did  she 
act  like  those  who  so  often  judge  of  a  friend  from  some 
report  of  his  conduct  as  if  they  had  never  known  him, 


38  BOSTON   DAYS 


and  allow  the  inference  from  the  single  act  to  alter  the 
opinion  formed  by  an  induction  from  years  of  intercourse. 
From  all  such  weakness  Margaret  stood  wholly  free.  .  .  . 
She  was  the  centre  of  a  group  very  different  from  each 
other,  and  whose  only  affinity  consisted  in  their  all  being 
polarized  by  the  strong  attraction  of  her  mind.  .  .  . 
How  she  glorified  life  to  all !  How  she  displayed  always 
the  same  marvellous  gift  of  conversation  which  afterwards 
dazzled  all  who  knew  her !  Those  who  know  Margaret 
only  by  her  published  writings  know  her  least  ;  her  notes 
and  letters  contain  more  of  her  mind,  but  it  was  only  in 
conversation  that  she  was  perfectly  free  and  at  home.  .  .  . 
All  her  friends  will  unite  in  the  testimony  that  whatever 
they  may  have  known  of  wit  and  eloquence  in  others  they 
have  never  seen  one  who,  like  her,  by  the  conversation  of 
an  hour  or  two  could  not  merely  entertain  and  inform  but 
make  an  epoch  in  one's  life.  We  all  dated  back  to  this 
or  that  conversation  with  Margaret,  in  which  we  took  a 
complete  survey  of  great  subjects,  came  to  some  clear 
view  of  a  difficult  question,  saw  our  way  open  before  us 
to  a  higher  plane  of  life,  and  were  led  to  some  definite 
resolution  or  purpose  which  has  had  a  bearing  on  all  our 
subsequent  career.  For  Margaret's  conversation  turned 
at  such  times  to  life,  —  its  destiny,  its  duty,  its  prospect. 
With  comprehensive  glance  she  would  survey  the  past  and 
sum  up  in  a  few  brief  words  its  results  ;  she  would  then 
turn  to  the  future  and  by  a  natural  order  sweep  through 
its  chances  and  alternatives,  —  passing  ever  into  a  more 
earnest  tone,  into  a  more  serious  view,  —  and  then  bring 
all  to  bear  on  the  present  till  its  duties  grew  plain  and  its 
opportunities  attractive.  .  .  .  Events  in  life  apparently 
trivial  often  seemed  to  her  full  of  mystic  significance." 

Margaret  Fuller  was  in  her  twenty-fifth  year  when 
she  first  met  and  knew  Emerson.     A  year  or  so  earlier 


THE   CITY   OF   BEAUTIFUL   IDEALS  39 

Dr.  Hedge  had  told  him  of  her  genius  and  scholarship 
and  had  loaned  him  her  manuscript  translation  of 
Goethe's  "  Tasso."  Emerson  notes  that  he  also  became 
the  more  interested  in  her  through  the  warm  praises  of 
Harriet  Martineau,  who  passed  the  winter  of  1835-36 
in  Boston  and  was  for  some  time  his  guest.  The 
strong  courage  and  earnest  sincerity  of  Miss  Marti- 
neau made  a  deep  impression  on  Margaret  Fuller,  who 
afterwards  said  of  their  first  meeting,  — 

'^I  wished  to  give  myself  wholly  up  to  receive  an 
impression  of  Miss  Martineau.  I  shall  never  forget 
what  she  said.  It  has  bound  me  to  her.  In  that  hour, 
most  unexpectedly  to  me,  we  passed  the  barrier  that 
separates  acquaintance  from  friendship,  and  I  saw  how 
greatly  her  heart  was  to  be  valued." 

At  the  time  of  her  first  meeting  with  Emerson  he 
described  himself  as  "  an  eager  scholar  of  ethics  and 
one  who  had  tasted  the  sweets  of  solitude  and  stoicism," 
and  he  adds  that  "  I  found  something  profane  in  the 
hours  of  amusing  gossip  into  which  she  drew  me,  and 
when  I  returned  to  my  library  had  much  to  think  of 
the  crackling  of  thorns  under  a  pot.  Margaret,  who 
had  stufifed  me  out  as  a  philosopher  in  her  own  fancy, 
was  too  intent  on  establishing  a  good  footing  between 
us  to  omit  any  art  of  winning.  She  studied  my  tastes, 
challenged  frankness  by  frankness,  and  was  curious  to 
know  my  opinions  and  experiences."  Emerson  records 
that  he  had  heard,  and  perhaps  he  partly  shared,  the 
rumor  that  Margaret  was  critical  and  disdainful  of  all 
but  the  intellectual,  ^'  but,"  he  adds,  "  it  was  a  super- 


40  BOSTON   DAYS 


ficial  judgment."  "  When  she  came  to  Concord," 
he  continues,  "she  was  already  rich  in  friends,  rich 
in  experiences,  rich  in  culture.  She  was  well  read 
in  French,  Italian,  and  German  literature.  She  had 
learned  Latin  and  a  little  Greek,  but  her  English  read- 
ing was  incomplete ;  and  while  she  knew  Molifere  and 
Rousseau  and  any  quantity  of  French  letters,  memoirs, 
and  novels,  and  was  a  dear  student  of  Dante  and 
Petrarch,  and  knew  German  books  more  cordially  than 
any  other  person,  she  was  little  read  in  Shakspeare, 
and  I  believe  I  had  the  pleasure  of  making  her  ac- 
quainted with  Chaucer,  with  Ben  Jonson,  with  Her- 
bert, Chapman,  Ford,  Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  with 
Bacon  and  Sir  Thomas  Browne.  I  was  seven  years 
her  senior,  and  had  the  habit  of  idle  reading  in  old 
English  books,  and  though  not  much  versed,  yet  quite 
enough  to  give  me  the  right  to  lead  her.  She  fancied 
that  sympathy  and  taste  had  led  her  to  an  exclusive 
culture  of  southern  European  books." 

One  of  the  mystic  personalities  who  have  left  an 
impress  on  this  time  was  Jones  Very,  a  man  spiritually 
akin  to  F^nelon  and  Madame  Guy  on.  He  appears  as  a 
curious  figure  against  the  background  of  religious  tradi- 
tion. A  graduate  of  Harvard  and  a  tutor  there  for  two 
years,  he  is  a  figure  in  the  history  of  the  college  ;  as  a 
poet  he  was  a  Transcendentalist  for  Transcendentalists ; 
and  his  own  unique  personality  was  one  remarked  even 
in  his  own  unconventional  days.  He  was  a  man  of 
absolute  sincerity  of  life.  His  own  attitude  is  typified 
in  the  lines  from  his  sonnet  entitled  "Jacob's  Well" : 


THE   CITY   OF   BEAUTIFUL   IDEALS  41 

"  Thou  pray'st  not,  save  when  in  thy  soul  thou  pray'st, 
Disrobing  of  thyself  to  feed  the  poor  ; 
The  words  thy  lips  shall  utter  then,  thou  say'st, 
They  are  as  marble,  and  they  shall  endure. 
Pray  always,  for  on  prayer  the  hungry  feed ; 
Its  sound  is  hidden  music  to  the  soul ; 
From  low  desires  its  rising  strains  shall  lead, 
And  willing  captives  own  thy  just  control." 

Mr.  Yerj  believed  in  the  absolute  surrender  to  the 
Divine  Will,  and  this  faith  he  realized  in  outward  life. 
He  crystallized  this  faith  in  the  lines,  — 

"  The  Prophet  speaks ;  the  world  attentive  stands  ! 
The  voice  that  stirs  the  people's  countless  host 
Issues  again  the  Living  God's  commands." 

Jones  Very  was  born  in  Salem  in  August  of  1813, 
the  eldest  of  six  children.  The  family  all  had  the  gift 
of  versification.  Li  his  youth  he  was  an  ardent  student 
and  expressed  a  desire  to  go  "  to  the  depths  of  litera- 
ture." He  graduated  from  Harvard  in  1836  with  the 
second  honors  of  his  class,  and  was  immediately  ap- 
pointed a  tutor  in  Greek,  carrying  on  his  study  of 
theology  at  the  same  time  in  the  Divinity  School. 
Exceedingly  sensitive  and  reserved  in  character,  enig- 
matic to  many,  his  rare  tenderness  and  sincerity  shone 
through  the  reticence  and  reserve  of  his  nature.  Writ- 
ing verse  was  a  part  of  the  daily  expression  of  his  life. 
Like  Milton,  he  regarded  it  not  so  much  as  his  own 
gift,  but  as  proceeding  from  "a  power  above  him." 
Like  all  the  group  of  which  he  was  a  prominent  and 
beautiful  figure,  he  was  intensely  religious  ;  to  a  degree, 
indeed,  that  made  the  general  public  pronounce  him  a 


42  BOSTON   DAYS 


monomaniac,  but  the  keen  insight  of  Mr.  Emerson  dis- 
cerned his  true  poise,  and  he  said  of  Mr.  Very  that  he 
was  "  profoundly  sane  "  and  added  that  he  "  wished  the 
whole  world  were  as  mad  as  he."  It  was  Elizabeth 
Peabody,  however,  who  was  his  chief  discoverer.  She 
was  the  Rontgen  ray  that  flashed  its  light  through  all 
manner  of  barriers,  and  her  chief  mission  seems  to  have 
been  always  the  revelation  of  persons  to  themselves. 
With  her  wonderful  power  of  establishing  rapport,  she 
became  very  intimate  with  Jones  Very.  Her  sister 
Sophia  (afterwards  Mrs.  Hawthorne)  also  came  to  know 
him  well,  and  in  one  of  her  letters  to  Elizabeth  she  thus 
speaks  of  Mr.  Very :  — 

*'I  do  not  think  I  am  subject  to  my  imagination;  I 
can  let  an  idea  go  to  the  grave  that  I  see  is  false.  When 
I  am  altogether  true  to  the  light  I  have,  I  should  be  in 
the  heaveu  where  the  angelic  Very  now  is.  .  .  .  Jones 
Very  came  to  tea  this  afternoon.  He  was  troubled  at 
first,  but  we  comforted  him  with  sympathy.  His  conver- 
sation was  divine,  and  such  level  rays  of  celestial  light  as 
beamed  from  his  face,  every  time  he  looked  up,  were 
lovely  to  behold.  We  told  him  of  our  enjoyment  of  his 
sonnets.  He  smiled  and  said  that,  unless  we  thought 
them  beautiful  because  we  also  heard  the  Voice  in  reading 
them,  they  would  be  of  no  avail.  '  Since  I  have  shown 
you  my  sonnets,'  said  he  to  me,  '  I  think  you  should  show 
me  your  paintings.'  Mary  brought  my  drawing  book  and 
Aeschylos.     He  deeply  enjoyed  them." 

Elizabeth  Peabody  was  deeply  interested  in  Mr. 
Very's  poems,  which  she  says  were  produced  very 
rapidly,  pencilled  down  "just  as  they  came  to  him," 


THE   CITY   OF   BEAUTIFUL   IDEALS  43 

often  produced  at  the  rate  of  two  or  three  a  day. 
These  Mr.  Very  copied  on  a  large  sheet  of  paper,  folded 
in  pages,  and  when  the  daily  supply  of  poetry  was 
complete  he  brought  it  to  her  and  she  transmitted  it 
to  her  familiar  spirit,  Mr.  Emerson.  In  those  days,  we 
must  remember,  the  chief  occupation,  the  prevailing 
industry,  it  might  be  said,  of  these  transcendental  folk 
was  to  write  and  discuss  each  other's  poems.  Their 
inspirations  were  their  special  capital  in  life.  In  his 
journal  Mr.  Emerson  alludes  to  Very  and  says :  — 

"  Our  Saint  was  very  unwilling  to  allow  correction  of 
Ms  verses,  but  I,  his  friend,  said,  '  I  supposed  you  were 
too  high  in  your  thought  to  mind  such  trifles.'  Mr.  Very 
replied,  '  I  value  these  verses  not  because  they  are  mine^ 
but  because  they  are  not.'  Very  interesting  are  the  jour- 
nal records  of  Mr.  Emerson  regarding  Jones  Very.  In 
one  place  we  find  him  saying  :  '  Jones  Very  came  here  two 
days  ago.  His  position  accuses  society  as  much  as 
society  names  that  position  false  and  morbid,  and  much  of 
his  discourse  concerning  society,  church,  and  college  was 
absolutely  just.  He  has  nothing  to  do  with  time  because 
he  obeys.  A  man  who  is  busy  has  no  time.  He  does 
not  recognize  that  element.  A  man  who  is  idle  says  he 
does  not  know  what  to  do  with  his  time.  Obedience  is  in 
eternity.  Mr.  Very  says  that  he  feels  it  an  honor  to  wash 
his  face,  being  as  it  is  the  temple  of  the  spirit.  He  also 
says  that  it  is  with  him  a  day  of  hate  that  he  discerns  the 
bad  element  in  every  person  whom  he  meets  which  repels 
him ;  he  even  shrinks  a  little  to  give  the  hand,  that  sign 
to  receive.  His  only  guard  in  going  to  see  men  is  that  he 
goes  to  do  them  good,  else  they  would  injure  him 
spiritually." 


44  BOSTON   DAYS 


Emerson's  characteristic  humor  appears  in  the  follow- 
ing extract  from  his  journal,  in  which  his  amusement  at 
Yery's  eccentricities  is  revealed  side  by  side  with  his 
appreciation  of  the  poet's  high  character :  — 

"  I  ought  not  to  omit  to  record  the  astonishment  which 
seized  all  the  company  when  our  brave  Saint  the  other 
day  fronted  the  presiding  Preacher.  The  Preacher  began 
to  tower  and  dogmatize  with  many  words.  Then  I  fore- 
saw that  his  doom  was  fixed ;  and,  as  soon  as  he  had 
ceased  speaking,  the  Saint  set  him  right,  and  blew  away 
all  his  words  in  an  instant,  —  unhorsed  him,  I  may  say,  and 
tumbled  him  along  the  ground  in  utter  dismay,  like  my 
angel  of  Heliodorus ;  never  was  discomfiture  more  com- 
plete. In  tones  of  genuine  pathos,  he  bid  him  wonder  at 
the  Love  which  suffered  him  to  speak  there  in  his  chair  of 
things  he  knew  nothing  of ;  one  might  expect  to  see  the 
book  taken  from  his  hands  and  him  thrust  out  of  the 
room,  and  yet  he  was  allowed  to  sit  and  talk,  whilst  every 
word  he  spoke  was  a  step  of  departure  from  the  truth ; 
and  of  this  he  commanded  himself  to  bear  witness." 

Mr.  Emerson  often  writes  to  Miss  Peabody  of  the 
enjoyment  he  has  in  conversations  with  Mr.  Very,  and 
to  the  latter  he  wrote :  '^  Do  not,  I  beg  of  you,  let  a 
whisper  or  a  sigh  of  the  muse  go  unattended  to  or  un- 
recorded." Again,  we  find  Mr.  Emerson  writing  to 
Miss  Peabody :  — 

"I  cannot  persuade  Mr.  Very  to  remain  with  me 
another  day.  He  says  he  is  not  permitted,  and  no  assur- 
ances that  his  retirement  shall  be  secured  are  of  any  avail. 
He  has  been  serene,  intelligent,  and  true  in  all  the  con- 
versation I  have  had  with  him.  He  gives  me  pleasure 
and  much  relief,  after  all  I  had  heard  concerniug  him." 


THE   CITY   OF   BEAUTIFUL   IDEALS  45 

Mr.  Very's  own  mind  is  vividly  revealed  in  this  para- 
graph of  a  letter  written  to  Mr.  Emerson  in  1838,  in 
which  he  says :  — 

' '  I  am  glad  at  last  to  be  able  to  transmit  what  has  been 
told  me  of  Shakespeare  —  't  is  but  the  faint  echo  of  that 
which  speaks  to  you  now.  .  .  .  You  hear  not  mine  own 
words,  but  the  teachings  of  the  Holy  Ghost.  .  .  .  My 
friend,  I  tell  you  these  things  as  they  are  told  me,  and 
hope  soon  for  a  day  or  two  of  leisure,  when  I  may  speak 
to  you  face  to  face  as  I  now  write." 

Later  we  find  Jones  Very  ordained  as  a  minister  and 
one  who  brought  wonderful  power  of  unseen  and  un~ 
analyzed  influence  to  bear  on  life.  "  To  have  walked 
with  Very/'  says  anotlier  clergyman,  "  was  truly  to  have 
walked  with  God."  And  another  appreciative  clerical 
brother  said,  "I  told  my  people  that  to  see  Very  for 
half  an  hour  in  my  pulpit  was  a  far  greater  sermon  than 
any  ever  preached  to  them  from  the  lips  of  an  orator." 
Perhaps  the  secret  of  the  strong  impression  he  made 
was  his  absolute  realization  of  the  Divine  Presence  as 
the  great  fact  of  life.  He  could  not  understand  this 
fact  as  being  vague  or  unreal  to  any  one.  One  who 
knew  him  says  that  "  in  the  height  of  his  ecstasy  he 
would  sit  for  hours  rapt  in  thought  and  gazing  off 
into  the  infinite.  Like  the  saintly  Buddha  he  seemed 
long  since  to  have  slain  '  love  of  self,  false  faith,  and 
doubt,*  a  conqueror  of  the  love  of  life  on  earth  he  had 
become.  He  regarded  the  whole  duty  of  life  as  that  of 
uttering  the  words  given  to  him." 


46  BOSTON   DAYS 


It  was  in  1839  that  the  house  of  Little,  Brown,  and 
Co.  —  that  old  landmark  among  Boston  publishing 
houses  —  published  a  small  collection  of  Mr.  Very's 
work,  —  fifty  sonnets,  three  prose  essays,  and  a  few  lyrics, 
and  this  was  done,  if  one  mistake  not,  by  the  request  of 
Mr.  Emerson.  The  life  of  Mr.  Very  was  largely  that  of 
a  recluse,  although  not  by  intentional  choice.  He  had 
the  isolation  of  his  temperament.  Not  with  any  ego- 
tism, but  with  intense  humility,  he  regarded  himself  as 
a  prophet  of  God  whose  service  was  to  be  the  channel 
of  the  divine  messages  to  him.  This  thought  is  em- 
bodied in  the  following  sonnet :  — 

"  I  looked  to  find  a  man  who  walked  with  God, 

Like  the  translated  patriarch  of  old : 
Though  gladdened  millions  on  his  footstool  trod, 

Yet  none  hke  him  did  such  sweet  converse  hold. 
I  heard  the  wind  in  low  complaint  go  by 

That  none  its  melodies  like  him  could  hear ; 
Day  unto  day  spoke  wisdom  from  on  high, 

Yet  none  like  David  turned  a  willing  ear  ; 
God  walked  alone  unhonored  through  the  earth ; 

For  him  no  heart-built  temple  open  stood. 
The  soul,  forgetful  of  her  nobler  birth, 

Had  hewn  him  lofty  shrines  of  stone  and  wood, 
And  left  unfinished  and  in  ruins  still 

The  only  temple  he  delights  to  fill." 

Dr.  Hale,  who  knew  Mr.  Very,  has  recently  said  of 
him:  — 

"I  have  been  wishing  that  some  one  would  prepare  a 
notice  of  a  man  whose  work  is  of  the  very  first  impor- 
tance, while  his  name  seems  to  have  been  written  in 
water. 


THE  CITY  OF  BEAUTIFUL  IDEALS         47 

"  I  lived  from  September,  1837,  to  Jialy,  1839,  in 
Massachusetts.  So  did  Samuel  Longfellow.  Very's 
room  was  in  the  same  entry,  and  he  was  regarded  as  the 
proctor  of  that  entry.  He  was  evidently  desirous  to  be 
on  good  terms  with  the  boys  in  the  entry,  and  always 
saluted  us  cordially  and  invited  us  into  his  room.  I  was 
but  a  boy,  but  Sam  Longfellow  and  I  had  sense  enough  to 
see  the  genius  and  insight  of  the  man.  We  had  a  very 
great  respect  for  him,  though  we  knew  he  was  odd,  and 
was  called  a  crank.  But  a  sort  of  diffidence  prevented 
him  from  taking  in  the  least  towards  us  the  tone  of  an 
instructor  or  a  leader.  As  I  was  studying  some  of  his 
sonnets  within  a  fortnight  past,  I  could  not  but  ask  my- 
self what  might  have  happened  to  the  world  if  this  man, 
with  his  profound  insight,  had  had  the  audacity  or  self- 
assertion  of  George  Fox  or  of  John  Wesley. 

"  We  certainly  knew  that  he  was  outside  the  line  of 
common  men ;  we  certainly  thought  that  something  was  to 
come  from  that  life.  But  I  should  say  now  that  only  the 
angels  of  God  can  say  what  infinite  results  are  proceeding 
from  his  life  in  the  minds  of  thoughtful  men  and  women 
to-day." 

Mr.  Very  lived  until  the  May  of  1880,  and  of  all  that 
has  been  written  of  him  nothing  more  delicately  inter- 
prets his  life  than  the  words  of  Emersou  when  he  said : 

"  His  words  were  loaded  with  fact.  What  he  said,  he 
held  was  not  personal  to  him,  was  no  more  disputable 
than  the  shining  of  yonder  sun  or  the  blowing  of  this 
south  wind.  Jones  Very  is  gone  into  the  multitude  as 
solitary  as  Jesus.  In  dismissing  him,  I  seem  to  have  dis- 
charged an  arrow  into  the  heart  of  society.  Wherever 
that  young  enthusiast  goes,  he  will  astonish  and  discon- 


48  BOSTON   DAYS 


cert  men  by  dividing  for  them  the  cloud  that  covers  the 
gulf  in  man." 

The  "  Church  of  the  Disciples  "  —  that  most  ideally 
beautiful  of  religious  organizations  —  was  inaugurated 
in  the  house  of  Dr.  Nathaniel  Peabody  in  West  Street 
in  April  of  1841,  when  a  few  persons  subscribed  their 
names  to  the  declaration  of  faith  as  written  by  James 
Freeman  Clarke:  — 

"  We  unite  together  in  the  following  faith  and  purpose  ; 
our  faith  is  in  Jesus  as  the  Christ,  the  Son  of  God.  And 
we  do  hereby  form  ourselves  into  a  Church  of  the  Dis- 
ciples that  we  may  co-operate  together  in  the  study  and 
practice  of  Christianity." 

The  first  names  following  the  signature  of  the  founder 
and  pastor  were  those  of  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Peabody  and 
their  three  daughters,  Elizabeth,  Mary,  and  Sophia. 
Somewhat  later  came  into  this  communion  Dr.  Henry 
B.  Blackwell  and  his  wife  Lucy  Stone,  Mrs.  Julia 
Ward  Howe,  Mrs.  Hemenway,  Mrs.  Cheney,  and  many 
others  whose  names  have  flown  to  world-wide  fame. 

From  this  initiation  of  the  Church  of  the  Disciples 
whose  future  held  a  power  undreamed  of  by  its  founder, 
we  may  for  a  moment  turn  backward  and  study  the 
life  and  personality  of  James  Freeman  Clarke,  whose 
work  expanded  in  many  directions. 

He  was  the  author  of  several  books,  of  which  the 
most  important  is  his  ''  Ten  Great  Religions,"  which  is 
held  by  students  and  thinkers  as  one  of  the  most 
valuable  works  of  authority,  so  extended  is  its  re- 


THE   CITY   OF   BEAUTIFUL  IDEALS  49 

search  into  sacred  history,  so  just  and  fair  is  it  in  tone. 
"The  Christian  Doctrine  of  Prayer,"  "  Thomas  Didymus," 
"  Common  Sense  in  Religion/'  "  Steps  of  Belief," 
"  Events  and  Epochs  in  Religious  History/'  and  "  Self- 
Culture  "  are  among  his  works.  Dr.  Clarke  also  wrote 
many  poems  of  a  contemplative  and  meditative  charac- 
ter, and  he  wrote  the  introduction  to  a  book  on  spirit- 
ualism, or  at  least  a  personal  experience  of  a  lady  who 
was  a  seer  of  spirits  and  able  to  converse  with  them, 
and  who  did  not  realize  during  her  early  childhood 
that  there  was  anything  phenomenal  in  the  appearance 
of  the  beautiful  beings  with  whom  she  held  conversa- 
tions. This  book  is  called  "  Light  on  the  Path,"  and  in 
his  preface  Dr.  Clarke  expressed  his  entire  confidence  in 
the  lady,  and,  practically,  his  acceptance  of  what  may 
be  termed  spiritual  spiritualism,  —  an  acceptance  which 
becomes  almost  an  inevitable  sequence,  one  would  sup- 
pose, of  the  perfect  faith  in  immortality  and  in  revealed 
religion. 

No  brief  outline  of  the  life  of  Dr.  Clarke  can  adequately 
suggest  that  gentle  persistence  of  energy  which  charac- 
terized him,  save  as  it  clothed  with  the  personal  memo- 
ries of  his  nearer  circle  of  friends  and  the  literary 
knowledge  of  that  yet  more  extended  circle  of  readers 
and  thinkers  on  both  hemispheres,  to  whom  the  name 
of  James  Freeman  Clarke  has  been  identified  with  some 
valuable  religious  works,  and  others,  perhaps  hardly  less 
valuable,  of  the  contemplative  type.  One  of  the  earliest 
Transcendentalists,  he  was  one  of  the  purest  teachers 
of  that  school  of  thought  which  has  been  exemplified  in 

4 


50  BOSTON   DAYS 


his  life  and  work.  He  was  free  from  the  vagaries  of  Mr. 
Alcott,  he  was  less  magnetized  by  German  metaphysics 
than  Dr.  Hedge,  and  he  was  of  a  less  exclusively  sub- 
jective temperament  than  Dr.  Bartol.  He  offers  the 
exceptional  study  of  the  purely  contemplative  life  of  the 
scholar  who  yet  resisted  the  tendency  to  the  closet  and 
the  cloister  to  which  this  temperament  is  always  liable, 
and  gave  to  public  activities  his  best  whenever  duty 
called  him.  Not  combining  the  saint  and  the  seer,  as 
did  Emerson,  he  was  not  less  the  saint,  and  his  life 
reveals  to  us  how  potent  and  how  wide  may  be  an 
influence  that  is  as  gentle,  as  quiet  —  at  times  as  imper- 
ceptible —  as  that  of  the  Holy  Spirit  in  its  working 
upon  the  hearts  of  men.  His  nature  was  the  absolutely 
spiritual ;  his  kindness  was  given  to  the  just  and  the 
unjust,  and  his  character  illustrated  the  gospel  of  love 
which  he  taught. 


Oh,  beauty  of  holiness, 


Of  self-forgetfulness,  of  lowliness !  " 


The  Transcendentalism  of  New  England  has  been  a 
powerful  force  in  American  life.  It  is  the  leaven 
which  has  leavened  national  thought ;  its  influence  has 
been  universal,  and  in  no  sense  geographical ;  wherever 
books  are  read  —  and  the  readers  and  worshippers  of 
Emerson  are  so  numerous  throughout  all  the  great  West 
that  they  give  perceptible  tone  to  intellectual  life  — 
wherever  books  can  go,  the  transcendental  spirit  of  New 
England  has  taken  root  in  those  temperamentally  fitted 
to  come  into  this  spiritual  attitude,  and  thus  its  force 


THE   CITY   OF  BEAUTIFUL   IDEALS         51 

has  become  a  great  and  underlying  power  in  our 
national  life.  By  entering  into  the  transcendental  spirit 
a  man  was  made  "  a  citizen  of  the  world  of  souls  ; "  he 
accepted  a  higher  allegiance,  and  entered  into  the  uni- 
versal life.  Transcendentalism  was  really  the  purest 
form  of  idealism  ;  the  insistence,  or  "  the  power  of  the 
thought  and  of  will,  or  inspiration,  or  miracle,  or  indi- 
vidual culture,"  as  against  and  as  greater  than  "  facts, 
history,  the  force  of  circumstances,  and  the  animal 
wants  of  man." 

"  James  Freeman  Clarke  was  a  contemporary  and 
an  intimate  friend  of  Theodore  Parker,"  writes  Mr. 
Frothingham  ;  "  he  was  a  co-worker  with  Channing,  a 
close  friend  and  correspondent  of  Miss  Fuller,  a  sympa- 
thizer with  Alcott  in  his  attempts  to  spiritualize  educa- 
tion, a  frequent  contributor  to  '  The  Dial,'  the  intellectual 
fellow  of  the  brilliant  minds  that  made  the  epoch  what 
it  was.  But  his  interest  was  not  confined  to  the 
school,  nor  did  the  technicalities  of  or  details  of  the 
transcendental  movement  embarrass  him ;  his  catholic 
mind  took  in  opinions  of  all  shades,  and  men  of  all 
communions.  .  .  .  But  though  churchly  tastes  led  him 
away  from  the  company  of  themselves  where  he  in- 
tellectually belonged,  and  an  unfailing  common  sense 
saved  him  from  the  extravagances  into  which  some  of 
them  fell,  a  Transcendentalist  he  was,  and  an  uncom- 
promising one.  The  intuitive  philosophy  was  his 
guide.  It  gave  him  assurance  of  spiritual  truths;  it 
interpreted  for  him  the  gospels  and  Jesus ;  it  inspired 
his   endeavors   to   reconcile   belief,   to   promote   unity 


52  BOSTON   DAYS 


among  the  discordant  sects,  to  enlighten  and  redeem 
mankind.  His  mission  has  been  that  of  a  spiritual 
peacemaker.  But  while  doing  this  he  has  worked 
faithfully  at  particular  causes;  was  an  avowed  and 
earnest  abolitionist  in  the  antislavery  days.  An  enemy 
of  violent  and  vindictive  legislation,  a  hearty  friend  of 
laborers  in  the  field  of  woman's  election  to  the  full 
privileges  of  culture  and  citizenship;  a  man  in  whom 
faith,  hope,  and  charity  abounded ;  a  man  of  intellect- 
ual convictions  which  made  a  groundwork  for  his  life." 

The  liberal  and  sympathetic  mind  of  Dr.  Clarke  asso- 
ciated him  sympathetically  both  with  the  adherents  to 
the  more  liberal  forms  of  evangelical  truth  and  with  the 
avowed  liberals  and  radicals.  This,  indeed,  is  the  true 
transcendental  spirit  to  be  able  to  see  justly  all  forms 
of  faith.  Dr.  Clarke's  work  exemplified  impressively 
the  spiritual  charity  which  characterizes  his  *'  Ten 
Great  Religions." 

It  was  rather  a  matter  of  coincidence  than  of  cause 
and  effect  that  the  enthusiasm  for  German  literature 
and  thought  glowed  so  brightly  among  a  little  group  at 
the  time  that  the  transcendental  movement  increased  in 
strength.  Dr.  Hedge  says  that  this  had  no  very  direct 
connection  with  the  philosophy  of  Kant  and  his  succes- 
sors, although  the  ideas  of  the  German  philosopher  were 
eagerly  sought  and  appreciated  by  a  small  group  of  young 
and  ardent  persons  and  this  trend  of  thought  became  an 
outlet  for  superabundant  spiritual  activities.  In  this 
social  circle  there  were  a  few  who  were  especially  bound 
to  each  other  in  the  ties  of  noble  and  permanent  friend- 


THE   CITY   OF   BEAUTIFUL   IDEALS  53 

ship,  —  Emerson,  Miss  Peabody,  James  Freeman  Clarke, 
and  Margaret  Fuller.  Dr.  Hedge,  as  a  youth  of  twenty, 
went  abroad  taking  with  him  a  letter  of  introduc- 
tion to  Goethe,  who  received  him  most  cordially. 
In  1830,  when  Dr.  Clarke  was  editing  a  theological  and 
literary  magazine  in  Louisville,  Ky.,  the  correspond- 
ence between  himself  and  Margaret  Fuller  began.  Of 
this  period  Dr.  Clarke  wrote,  in  the  memoirs  of  Miss 
Fuller,  in  which  he  collaborated  with  the  Rev.  William 
Henry  Channing  and  Emerson  —  in  his  portion  of  these 
memoirs  he  wrote  of  Margaret :  — 

"  From  1829  till  1833  I  saw  or  heard  from  her  almost 
every  day.  There  was  a  family  connection,  and  we  called 
each  other  cousin.  She  needed  a  friend.  She  accepted 
me  for  this  friend,  and  to  me  it  was  a  gift  of  the  gods,  an 
influence  like  no  other." 

Mr.  Clarke  refers  to  this  friendship  as  one  that  en- 
larged his  heart  and  gave  elevation  and  energy  to  his 
aims  and  purpose,  —  generous  words  of  appreciation 
they  are,  for  if  Margaret  gave  him  energy  he  surely  gave 
her  steadfastness  and  gentleness,  and  a  faithful  friend 
on  whom  her  more  mercurial  nature  could  rely. 

While  Dr.  Holmes  had  no  especial  sympathy  with  the 
transcendental  movement,  there  yet  existed  between 
James  Freeman  Clarke  and  himself  a  tender  and  beau- 
tiful friendship,  which  found  expression  in  one  of  the 
most  perfect  lyrics  of  the  genial  Autocrat,  who  wrote 
for  a  birthday  tribute  to  his  classmate  a  poem  containing 
these  stanzas : — 


54  BOSTON   DAYS 


"  I  bring  the  simplest  pledge  of  love. 
Friend  of  my  earlier  days  : 
Mine  is  the  hand  without  the  glove, 
The  heartbeat,  not  the  phrase. 

**  How  few  still  breathe  this  mortal  air 
"We  call  by  schoolboy  names ! 
You  still,  whatever  robe  you  wear, 
To  me  are  always  James. 

"  That  name  the  kind  apostle  bore 
Who  shames  the  sullen  creeds, 
Not  trusting  less,  but  loving  more, 
And  showing  Faith  by  deeds." 

And  the  last  stanza  runs  :  — 

"  Count  not  his  years  while  earth  has  need 
Of  souls  that  heaven  inflames 
"With  sacred  zeal  to  save,  to  lead,  — 
Long  live  our  dear  Saint  James  !  " 

Dr.  Holmes  often  alluded  to  his  old  classmate  as 
"  Saint "  James,  and  to  a  friend  who  spoke  of  this  to  him 
one  day  he  smiled  and  said  that  at  no  period  of  Dr. 
Clarke's  life  would  the  title  have  been  inappropriate,  as 
he  seemed  always  the  embodied  spirit  of  gentleness  and 
peace,  • —  of  love  abounding  and  overflowing. 

Among  the  habitues  of  the  home  of  Dr.  and  Mrs. 
Clarke  were  the  Channings,  Emerson,  Longfellow  and  his 
brother,  Rev.  Samuel  Longfellow,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Whipple, 
Dr.  Holmes,  Rev.  Dr.  Andrew  Preston  Peabody,  Dr. 
Hedge,  Margaret  Fuller,  Christopher  Cranch,  Lydia 
Maria  Child,  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Howe,  Miss  Peabody, 
Whittier,  the  Hawthornes,  Lowell,  Agassiz,  and  many 


THE   CITY   OF   BEAUTIFUL   IDEALS  55 

more  of  the  good  and  the  great,  all  of  whom  were 
familiar  friends  in  their  household. 

Between  James  Freeman  Clarke  and  Margaret  Fuller 
there  always  existed  a  confidential  friendship.  Writing 
to  him  under  date  of  July  31,  1862,  she  says  :  — 

"  I  have  no  reserves,  except  intellectual  reserves  ;  for  to 
speak  of  things  to  those  who  cannot  receive  them  is 
stupidity  rather  than  frankness.  Therefore,  dear  James, 
give  heed  to  this  subject.  You  have  received  a  key  to 
what  was  before  unknown  of  your  friend;  you  have  made 
use  of  it ;  now  let  it  be  buried  with  the  past,  over  whose 
passages,  profound  and  sad,  yet  touched  with  heaven-born 
beauty,  let  silence  stand  sentinel." 

And  again  she  writes  to  Mr.  Clarke  :  — 

"  I  have  been  happy  in  the  sight  of  your  pure  design,  of 
the  sweetness  and  serenity  of  your  mind.  .  .  .  Youth  is 
past,  with  its  passionate  joys  and  griefs,  its  restlessness, 
its  vague  desires.  Now,  beware  the  mediocrity  that 
threatens  middle  life,  —  its  limitations  of  thought  and  in- 
terest, its  dulness  of  fancy,  its  too  external  life.  ...  So 
take  care  of  yourself,  and  let  not  the  intellect  more  than 
the  spirit  be  quenched." 

Transcendentalism  had  its  inflorescence  in  many  ways, 
serving  as  a  leaven  that  entered  into  the  social,  literary, 
and  ethical  atmosphere,  and  it  may  be  regarded  as  one 
of  the  voices  crying  in  the  Wilderness  which  summoned 
the  future  to  larger  and  nobler  views  and  stimulated  the 
capacity  to  dwell  in  still  more  stately  mansions. 

A  story  is  on  record  that  Theodore  Parker's  earnest 
and  heroic  life  dated  its  first  conscious  impulse  back  to 


56  BOSTON   DAYS 


aD  occurrence  which  he  himself  often  related.  It  seems 
that  when  Mr.  Parker  was  a  boy  about  twelve  years  of 
age  he  was  at  work  one  day  on  his  father's  farm  near 
Lexington,  and  suddenly  a  venerable  man  stood  by  him. 
His  silvery  hair  and  flowing  beard  impressed  the  lad  as 
somewhat  unusual,  and  for  some  time  the  aged  man 
walked  along  by  him,  talking  to  him  earnestly  of  all 
that  it  was  possible  for  a  boy  to  do  and  to  become  in 
the  world.  It  made  upon  him  a  lasting  impression, 
and  he  repeatedly  affirmed  that  the  hour  became  to  him 
a  conscious  date  in  life,  one  that  initiated  all  his 
latent  force  and  aspiration.  On  inquiring  as  to  whence 
the  stranger  came,  no  one  could  tell.  It  was  a  country 
neighborhood  where  any  visitor  attracted  attention,  and 
as  no  one  but  the  lad  had  seen  him,  he  came  in  after 
years  to  half  believe  that  his  visitor  was  of  supernormal 
origin. 

The  impression  that  Theodore  Parker  made  upon  the 
progress  of  religion  was  a  deep  one,  and  if  its  elements 
were  a  little  mixed  and  love  was  somewhat  tempered 
with  aggressiveness,  it  may  be  remembered  that  only 
thus  do  the  Titans  of  thought  shatter  the  shells  and 
husks  of  dead  forms  and  bid  the  spirit  emerge  into 
freedom.  Mrs.  Howe  ranks  the  hearing  of  Mr.  Parker's 
sermons  among  the  blessings  and  privileges  of  her  life. 
Mrs.  Child  confessed  to  her  impression  that  he  "was 
the  greatest  man,  morally  and  intellectually,  that  our 
country  has  ever  produced."  Frances  Power  Cobbe, 
who  was  all  in  all  his  most  appreciative  friend  in  the 
sense  of  absolute  sympathy  of  spirit,  calls  his  "  Dis- 


THE   CITY   OF   BEAUTIFUL   IDEALS  51 

courses  of  Religion  "  epoch-making  ;  and  she  felt  that  he 
taught  her  "  to  see  the  evidence  of  a  summer  yet  to  be 
in  the  buds  that  lie  folded  through  our  northern  winter." 
Mr.  Parker  regarded  his  work  as  in  the  nature  of  a 
gospel  for  ultimate  universal  acceptance.  Perhaps  it 
was  his  misfortune  to  consider  himself  as  too  exclusively 
the  channel  of  that  larger  truth  which  was  pouring 
itself  through  many  circles  not  only  in  the  ministry,  but 
from  press  and  platform  and  in  literature  as  well. 
Always  indeed  the  poet's  words  are  true, — 

"  God  sends  his  teachers  unto  every  age, 
To  every  clime,  and  every  race  of  men. 
With  revelations  fitted  to  their  growth." 

Theodore  Parker's  work  doubtless  benefits  a  multitude 
who  have  never  identified  it  with  his  name.  The 
noblest  energy,  indeed,  that  a  man  can  contribute  to 
progress  springs  up  in  a  thousand  new  forms  and 
communicates  itself  through  various  channels.  Dr. 
Bushnell  and  Henry  Ward  Beecher  were  to  come ; 
Edward  Everett  Hale  and  Phillips  Brooks,  Notable 
work,  too,  in  the  liberation  of  thought  has  been  done 
by  Rev.  Dr.  Minot  J.  Savage  and  Dr.  Lyman  Abbott, 
nor  could  any  resumd  of  Boston  ministry  miss  its 
profound  recognition  of  the  noble  work  of  Rev.  Dr. 
George  A.  Gordon. 

When  Theodore  Parker  sailed  for  Europe  on  that 
voyage  from  which  there  was  no  returning,  he  sent  one 
of  his  sermons  to  Mrs.  Child  with  a  little  note,  to 
which  she  refers  in  a  letter  to  a  friend,  saying  she  shall 


58  BOSTON   DAYS 


treasure  it  among  sacred  relics,  "  for  my  heart  misgives 
me/'  she  adds,  "  that  I  shall  never  look  upon  that 
Socratic  head  again."  Her  heart  prophesied  truly,  for 
from  this  voyage  he  never  returned,  and  his  grave  in 
the  English  cemetery  in  Florence,  where  all  that  was 
mortal  of  Mrs.  Browning,  Landor,  and  Arthur  Hugh 
Clough  was  also  laid,  is  still  a  shrine  of  reverent  and 
poetic  pilgrimage. 

One  of  the  most  typically  unique  characters  of  those 
early  years  of  the  Nineteenth  century  was  Delia  Bacon, 
whose  life  was  devoted  to  the  quest  of  endeavoring  to 
prove  that  Shakspeare  did  not  write  the  plays  which 
bear  his  name.  Miss  Bacon  was  the  modern  Cassandra 
of  literature.  Theodore  Bacon,  her  nephew,  has  made 
an  interesting  record  of  this  life,  which,  beginning  in 
privation  and  the  "simplicity  of  a  refined  poverty," 
ended  in  disappointment  and  distraction.  The  earliest 
formative  influence  of  the  little  Delia's  life  was  found  in 
the  school  of  Catherine  Beecher,  of  which  she  became  a 
pupil.  At  this  time  Harriet  Beecher,  whom  the  world 
knows  as  Mrs.  Stowe,  was  associated  in  the  manage- 
ment of  the  school.  Nearly  thirty  years  afterward 
Catherine  Beecher  described  Delia  Bacon  as  a  child  of 
''  fervent  imagination,  and  the  embryo  of  rare  gifts  of 
eloquence  in  thought  and  expression ;  pre-eminently 
one  who  would  be  pointed  out  as  a  genius ;  and  one, 
too,  so  exuberant  and  unregulated  as  to  demand  con- 
stant pruning  and  restraint."  The  religious  life  of  the 
girl  was  fervent  and  intense,  but  marked  by  the  bitter- 
ness and  despondency  of  the  time. 


THE   CITY   OF   BEAUTIFUL   IDEALS  59 

The  years  went  on.  She  studied,  wrote,  taught,  and 
worked  incessantly.  Great  force,  eloquence,  imagery, 
characterized  her  language.  She  was  sensitive,  proud, 
finely  organized,  and  knew  no  rest  or  care  or  shelter ; 
and  this,  as  her  biographer  says,  was  not  a  normal  or  a 
healthful  life  for  a  nervous  organization  of  fine  intellect- 
ual powers,  of  strong  affections.  Her  work  included, 
at  one  time,  lessons  given  to  classes  at  Brattle  House 
in  Cambridge,  and  Mrs.  Farrar  mentions  her  in  her 
"  Recollections  of  Seventy  Years."  In  this  life  of  study 
and  teaching,  her  mind  at  last  became  fixed  on  the 
greatest  work  of  English  letters,  the  Shakspearian 
drama.  Miss  Bacon  was  in  London.  Carlyle  was  her 
friend,  though  he  disavowed  any  faith  in  her  theories, 
and  Hawthorne,  to  whom  she  appealed  for  aid,  was 
most  considerate  and  patient.  Miss  Bacon,  while  in 
Cambridge  giving  lessons  at  Brattle  House,  made  the 
impression  on  Mrs.  Farrar  of  being  ^^  one  of  Raphael's 
sibyls,"  who  ^'  often  spoke  like  an  oracle."  There  are 
characters  sometimes  sent  into  this  world  who  cannot 
be  judged  from  the  ordinary  standards  of  human  motive 
and  achievement.  They  are  fated  beings,  born  to 
fulfil  a  destiny.  They  are  apparently  predestined  to  a 
certain  work,  —  a  work  to  which  all  that  marvellous 
foreordination  of  heredity,  of  environment,  of  place, 
and  time,  and  influence,  lead  directly  toward,  and  they 
fulfil  that  destiny.     Delia  Bacon  seems  one  of  those. 

Hawthorne's  words  on  her  are  those  of  exquisite 
justice.     Of  her  convictions  regarding  Shakspeare   he 


60  BOSTON   DAYS 


' '  What  matters  it  though  she  call  him  by  some  other 
name  ?  He  had  wrought  on  her  a  greater  miracle  than 
on  all  the  world  besides.  This  bewildered  enthusiast  had 
recognized  a  depth  in  the  man  whom  she  decried,  which 
scholars,  critics,  and  learned  societies  devoted  to  the  elu- 
cidation of  his  unrivalled  scenes  had  never  imagined  to 
exist  there.  She  had  paid  him  the  loftiest  honor  that  all 
these  ages  of  renown  have  been  able  to  accumulate  upon 
his  memory." 

Emerson  defines  fate  as  the  result  of  "  unpenetrated 
causes."  Temperament,  too,  is  fairly  synonymous  with 
destiny,  and  this  truth,  too,  is   implied  in   Emerson's 

lines  :  — 

"  Deep  in  the  man  sits  fast  his  fate 
To  mould  his  fortunes,  rich  or  great." 

Lydia  Maria  Child  is  a  striking  illustration  of  this 
theory,  for  her  beautiful  temperament  dominated  and 
fairly  transformed  outward  events. 

Mrs.  Child  was  the  most  sunny  and  radiant  of  spirits. 
She  was  a  wonderful  combination  of  the  rational  and 
the  mystic,  but  her  mysticism  was  that  of  the  spirit  and 
never  degenerated  into  mere  bombastic  rhetoric  unrelated 
to  significance.  Of  spurious  transcendentalism  she  was 
swift  to  prick  the  bubble ;  but  she  entered  with  deepest 
sympathy  and  illuminating  intelligence  into  every  form 
of  the  intimations  of  immortality.  "  This  marked  spec- 
ulative tendency  seemed  not  in  the  slightest  degree  to 
affect  her  practical  activities,"  says  Mr.  Whittier  of  her. 
From  the  speculative  thought  she  drew  that  energy 
which  transmitted  itself  into  effort  and  achievement. 
Her  mind  was  not  only  well  stored,  but  it  was  one  of 


THE   CITY   OF   BEAUTIFUL   IDEALS  6l 

exceptionally  original  power.  She  was  brilliant  in  wit 
and  repartee.  Her  husband  once  remarked  to  her : 
^'  I  wish  for  your  sake,  dear,  that  I  were  as  rich  as 
Croesus/'  to  which  she  flashed  back,  "  You  are  Croesus, 
for  you  are  king  of  Lydia." 

She  was  full  of  high  courage.  She  was  one  of  the 
great  leaders  in  the  cause  of  human  freedom  when  its 
unpopularity  was  so  great  as  seriously  to  threaten  loss  of 
life  and  property  and  reputation  to  every  one  who 
embraced  it.  In  the  decades  of  1820-40  Mrs.  Child 
was  the  best-known  literary  woman  in  the  United 
States,  with  fame  and  prosperity  attending  her,  both  of 
which  she  imperilled  and  even  lost  by  writing  an  article 
entitled,  "  An  Appeal  for  that  Class  of  Americans  called 
Africans."  The  Athenaeum  Library  that  had  bestowed 
on  her  the  honor  of  its  freedom  closed  its  doors  to  her ; 
the  sale  of  her  books  and  subscriptions  to  the  magazine 
she  was  editing  fell  off.  Yet  of  Mrs.  Child  at  this  time 
it  might  well  be  said :  — 

"Then  to  side  with.  Truth  is  noble  when  we  share  her  wretched 
crust 
Ere  the  cause  bring  fame  and  profit,  and  't  is  prosperous  to  be 
just." 

Mrs.  Child  experienced  both  extremes,  —  "  sharing 
the  wretched  crust "  and  also  living  to  see  the  despised 
cause  take  its  place  amid  the  loftiest  ranks  of  sacrifice. 

How  wonderfully  the  Boston  of  the  early  part  of  the 
Nineteenth  century  rises  as  a  living  panorama  before 
those  who  turn  the  records !  The  transcendental 
movement   initiated  by  the   little  group  who   formed 


62  BOSTON   DAYS 


themselves  into  a  club ;  the  intellectual  problems  of 
literature  and  philosophy  as  crystallized  in  the  "  conver- 
sations "  of  Margaret  Fuller  and  her  circle ;  Theodore 
Parker  preaching  that  epoch-making  sermon  on  "The 
Transient  and  Permanent  Elements  in  Religion ;  "  Garri- 
son, Phillips,  and  Mrs.  Child  leading  the  forlorn  hope 
against  slavery;  Lucy  Stone  inaugurating  her  great 
work  for  the  larger  life  of  womanhood,  —  and  through 
it  all  the  devotion  to  German  philosophy,  to  literature 
in  every  attainable  form,  and  the  constant  microscopic 
scrutiny  and  analysis  of  life  as  is  revealed  in  the  volu- 
minous letter-writing  of  the  day. 

Born  in  1802,  Mrs.  Child  lived  on  until  October  of 
1880,  and  she  has  left  a  record  as  one  of  the  most  re- 
markable women  that  America  has  produced,  not  alone, 
perhaps  not  even  chiefly,  in  work,  but  in  character.  She 
was  gifted  with  great  literary  and  scholarly  ability ;  she 
was  a  woman  who,  in  the  days  when  the  larger  oppor- 
tunities were  denied  to  women,  had  still  achieved  high 
and  symmetrical  culture.  But  that  culture  of  character 
which  was  hers — the  living  out  of  divineness,  as  it 
literally  was  —  transcended  all  else. 

"  Go  put  your  creed 
Into  your  deed, " 

was  her  ruling  precept.  At  the  age  of  twenty-six  she 
married  David  Lee  Child,  a  Boston  lawyer.  Of  her 
literary  work  Mr.  Whittier  wrote :  — 

"It  is  not  too  much  to  say  that  half  a  century  ago  she 
was  the  most  popular  literary  woman  in  the  United  States. 


c9  /^^^^^^^^^^^^-^ 


CZ.Z—  U/T^^Ae-^     ^^^'^y^ 


^^91^^^-Dt:  Y    ^^^ 


^- 


^^     Z^^^^-^i^^i^ 


y  / 


u.^^-^.'^.^'-^^-i^^^^-^-T^    6.^.,^^^ 


THE   CITY  OF   BEAUTIFUL   IDEALS  63 

She  had  published  historical  novels  of  unquestionable 
power  of  description  and  characterization,  and  was  widely 
and  favorably  known  as  the  editor  of  the  '  Juvenile  Mis- 
cellany,' which  was  probably  the  first  periodical  in  the 
English  tongue  devoted  exclusively  to  children,  and  to 
which  she  was  by  far  the  largest  contributor.  Some  of 
the  tales  and  poems  from  her  pen  were  extensively  copied 
and  greatly  admired." 

Many  anecdotes  of  Mr.  Whittier  are  told  in  Mrs. 
Child's  letters,  and  of  a  visit  to  him  in  his  home  in 
Dauvers  in  1860  she  said :  — 

"  Friend  Whittier  and  his  gentle  Quakerly  sister  seemed 
delighted  to  see  me,  or  rather  he  seemed  delighted  and 
she  seemed  pleased.  There  was  a  Republican  meeting 
that  evening,  at  which  he  felt  obliged  to  show  himself ; 
but  he  came  back  before  long,  having  indiscreetly  excused 
himself  by  stating  that  I  was  at  his  house.  The  result  was 
that  a  posse  of  Republicans  came,  after  the  meeting  was 
over,  to  look  at  the  woman  who  '  fired  hot  shot  at  Gov- 
ernor Wise.'  In  the  interim,  however,  I  had  some  cozy 
chat  with  Friend  Whittier,  and  it  was  right  pleasant  going 
over  our  antislavery  reminiscences.  Oh,  those  were  glori- 
ous times !  working  shoulder  to  shoulder  in  such  a  glow  of 
faith !  —  too  eager  working  for  humanity  to  care  a  fig 
whether  our  helpers  were  priests  or  infidels.  That 's  the 
service  that  is  pleasing  in  the  sight  of  God. 

' '  Whittier  made  piteous  complaints  of  time  wasted  and 
strength  exhausted  by  the  numerous  loafers  who  came  to 
see  him  out  of  mere  idle  curiosity,  or  to  put  up  with  him 
to  save  a  penny.  I  was  amused  to  hear  his  sister  describe 
some  of  those  eruptions  in  her  slow,  Quakerly  fashion. 
'  Thee  has  no  idea,'  said  she,  '  how  much  time  Green- 
leaf  spends  in  trying  to  lose  these  people  in  the  streets. 


64  BOSTON   DAYS 


Sometimes  he  comes  home  and  says,  "  Well,  sister,  I  had 
hard  work  to  lose  him,  but  I  have  lost  him."'  '  But  1 
cau  never  lose  a  her,'  said  Whittier.  '  The  women  are 
more  pertinacious  than  the  men ;  don't  thee  find  'em  so, 
Maria?'  I  told  him  I  did.  'How  does  thee  manage  to 
get  time  to  do  anything?'  said  he.  I  told  him  I  took  care 
to  live  away  from  the  railroad,  and  kept  a  bulldog  and  a 
pitchfork,  and  advised  him  to  do  the  same." 

Mrs.  Maria  Weston  Chapman,  the  biographer  of  Miss 
Martineau,  vras  prominently  associated  in  the  early  anti- 
slavery  days  w^ith  Garrison,  Phillips,  and  Mrs.  Child. 
With  them  vrere  closely  allied  Rev.  Samuel  J.  May,  Dr. 
and  Mrs.  Follen,  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Ellis  Gray  Loring. 
Miss  Martineau  has  left  a  pen  picture  of  Mrs.  Chapman 
vrhich  is  one  to  live  in  literature.  Miss  Martineau 
writes ;  — 

"  When  I  was  putting  on  my  shawl  upstairs,  Mrs.  Chap- 
man came  to  me,  bonnet  in  hand,  to  say,  '  You  know  we 
are  threatened  with  a  mob  again  to-day ;  but  I  do  not  my- 
self much  apprehend  it.  It  must  not  surprise  us  ;  but  my 
hopes  are  stronger  than  my  fears.'  I  hear  now,  as  I  write, 
the  clear  silvery  tones  of  her  who  was  to  be  the  friend  of 
the  rest  of  my  life.  I  still  see  the  exquisite  beauty  which 
took  me  by  surprise  that  day,  —  the  slender,  graceful 
form  ;  the  golden  hair  which  might  have  covered  her  to 
her  feet ;  the  brilliant  complexion,  noble  profile,  and  deep 
blue  eyes ;  the  aspect,  meant  by  nature  to  be  soft  and 
winning  only,  but  that  day  (as  ever  since)  so  vivified  by 
courage,  and  so  strengthened  by  upright  conviction,  as  to 
appear  the  very  embodiment  of  heroism.  'My  hopes,' 
said  she,  as  she  threw  up  her  golden  hair  under  her 
bonnet,  '  are  stronger  than  my  fears.'  " 


THE   CITY   OF   BEAUTIFUL   IDEALS  65 

Miss  Martineau  left  so  strong  an  impression  on 
Boston  that  fifty  years  later  it  crystallized  into  a  pur- 
pose to  place  her  statue  in  Wellesley,  the  ''  College 
Beautiful."  The  commission  to  execute  it  was  fittingly 
given  to  Anne  Whitney,  poet  and  sculptor,  and  the 
occasion  of  its  unveiling  —  in  the  Old  South  Church,  in 
December  of  1883,  was  the  last  public  appearance  of 
Wendell  Phillips. 

Of  the  sculptor's  work  Mrs.  Livermore  said  :  — 

''Miss  Whitney  has,  in  this  instance,  unconsciously 
put  much  of  herself  —  much  of  the  simple,  genuine, 
almost  divine  womanhood  she  herself  lived  out,  and  the 
result  is  a  marvellous  statue  of  Harriet  Martineau. 
As  you  look  you  find  yourself  repeating  the  lines  of 
Lamar  tine  :  — 

*"  At  her  feet  tiie  poor  flung  palms, 

And  holy  women  wept  their  blessing. '  '* 

The  birthplace  and  early  home  of  Wendell  Phillips 
was  in  the  old  West  End,  his  father's  house  being  at 
the  corner  of  Beacon  and  Walnut  streets.  He  was 
born  in  1811,  and  his  death,  in  February  of  1884,  was 
an  event  that  marked  the  close  of  a  thrilling  chapter 
of  Boston  history.  His  majestic  manhood  is  known  to 
all.  Stronger  than  John  Bright,  more  eloquent  than 
Victor  Hugo,  he  even  transcended  both  in  his  devotion 
to  humanity.  His  public  career  was  an  epic  poem ;  his 
domestic  life  an  idyl. 

No  tribute  has  been  paid  to  him  that  is  at  once 
so  noble,  eloquent,  and  poetic  as  that  of  John  Boyle 


66  BOSTON   DAYS 


O'Reilly,  who  fairly  embalmed  the  entire  biography  of 
Wendell  Phillips  in  these  lines :  — 

"  Come,  workers  ;  here  was  a  teacher,  and  the  lesson  he  taught 

was  good ; 
There  are  no  classes  or  races,  but  one  human  brotherhood; 
There  are  no  creeds  to  be  hated,  no  colors  of  skin  debarred  j 
Mankind  is  one  in  its  rights  and  wrongs  —  one  right,  one  hope, 

one  guard ; 
The  right  to  be  free,  and  the  hope  to  be  just,  and  the  guard 

against  selfish  greed, 
By  his  life  he  taught,  by  his  death  we  learn,  the  great  reformer's 

creed  ; 
And  the  unseen  chaplet  is  brightest  and  best  which  the  toil-worn 

hands  lay  down 
On  his  coffin,  with  grief,  love,  honor  —  their  sob,  their  kiss,  and 

their  crown. 

From  the  midst  of  the  flock  he  defended  the  brave  one  has  gone 

to  his  rest  ; 
And  the  tears  of  the  poor  he  befriended  their  wealth  of  affliction 

attest. 
From  the  midst  of  the  people  is  stricken  a  symbol  they  daily 

saw,  , 

Set  over  against  the  law  books,  of  a  Higher  than  Human  Law  ; 
For  his  life  was  a  ceaseless  protest,  and  his  voice  was  a  prophet's 

cry 
To  be  true  to  the  truth  and  faithful,  though  the  world  were 

arrayed  for  the  Lie. 

"  From  the  hearing  of  those  who  hated,  the  threatening  voice  has 

past ; 
But  the  lives  of  those  who  believe  to  the  death  are  not  blown  like 

a  leaf  on  the  blast. 
A  sower  of  infinite  seed  was  he,  a  woodman  that  hewed  to  the 

ligbt, 
Who  dared  to  be  traitor  to  Union  when  the  Union  was  traitor 

to  Eight  ! " 


THE   CITY   OF   BEAUTIFUL   IDEALS  67 

William  Lloyd  Garrison  was  six  years  the  senior  of 
Wendell  Phillips.  Their  lives  were  closely  associated 
in  the  antislavery  struggle,  —  a  conflict  whose  scenes 
are  difficult  to  realize  in  the  present.  Colonel  Higginson 
has  said  of  Mr,  Garrison  :  "  I  never  saw  a  countenance 
that  could  be  compared  with  his  in  respect  to  moral 
strength  and  force ;  he  seems  the  visible  embodiment 
of  something  deeper  and  more  controlling  than  mere 
intellect.  .  .  .  He  did  the  work  of  a  man  of  iron  in  an 
iron  age,"  adds  Colonel  Higginson,  and  writes,  also,  that 
"in  the  Valhalla  of  contemporary  statues  in  Boston, 
two  only  —  those  of  Webster  and  Everett  —  commemo- 
rate conservatives  in  the  antislavery  conflict,  while  all 
the  rest,  Lincoln,  Quincy,  Sumner,  Andrew,  Mann, 
Garrison,  and  Shaw,  represent  the  party  of  attack." 
To  which  list  might  well  be  added  Colonel  Higginson's 
own  honored  name,  and  that  of  Mr.  Frank  B.  Sanborn. 

Wendell  Phillips  came  from  one  of  what  Dr.  Holmes 
so  well  terms  the  ^'  Academic  families  "  of  New  Eng- 
land,—  families  who,  from  generation  to  generation, 
are  college-bred  men.  The  father  of  Wendell  Phillips 
was  a  man  of  wealth  and  prominence,  at  one  time  the 
Mayor  of  Boston,  and  his  home  was  one  of  ease  and 
culture.  Mr.  Phillips  graduated  from  Harvard  in  the 
class  of  1831,  —  Motley,  the  historian,  being  his  class- 
mate. Colonel  Higginson,  in  his  fascinating  volume 
called  "  Contemporaries,"  pictures  the  dramatic  initia- 
tion of  the  career  of  Phillips  in  witnessing  the  mobbing 
of  Garrison  in  1835.  "  To  the  antislavery  cause,"  says 
Colonel  Higginson,  "  he  sacrificed  his  social  position, 


68  BOSTON  DAYS 


his  early  friendships,  his  professional  career.  .  .  .  Being 
rich,  he  made  himself,  as  it  were,  poor  through  life, 
reduced  all  his  personal  wants  to  the  lowest  terms, 
earned  all  the  money  he  could  by  lecturing,  and  gave 
away  all  he  could  spare.  .  .  .  He  was  fortunate  in 
wedding  a  wife  in  perfect  sympathy  with  him,  —  a  life- 
long invalid,  yet  with  such  indomitable  courage,  such 
keenness  of  wit,  such  insight  into  character,  that  she 
really  divided  with  him  the  labors  of  his  career.  .  .  . 
They  lived  on  Essex  Street,  .  .  .  the  house  was  plain 
and  bare  without  and  within,  but  peace  and  courage 
ruled." 

On  this  Essex  Street  house  in  which  Mr.  Phillips 
lived  there  is  now  placed  this  tablet :  — 

Here 
Wendell  Phillips  resided  during  forty  years, 
Devoted  by  him  to  efforts  to  secure 
The  abolition  of  African  slavery  in  this  country. 


The  charms  of  home,  the  enjoyment  of  wealth  and  learning, 
Even  the  kindly  recognition  of  his  fellow-citizens, 
Were  by  him  accounted  as  naught  compared  with  duty. 


He  lived  to  see  justice  triumphant,  freedom  universal. 
And  to  receive  the  tardy  praises  of  his  former  opponents. 
The  blessings   of  the   poor,   the  friendless,   and  the  oppressed 
enriched  him. 


In  Boston 
He  was  born  29  November,  1811,  and  died  2  February,  1884. 


This  tablet  was  erected  in  1894,  by  order  of  the  City  Council  of 
Boston. 


THE   CITY   OF   BEAUTIFUL   IDEALS  69 

Mrs.  Howe  fitly  characterizes  the  first  speech  of 
Wendell  Phillips  in  Faneuil  Hall  as  the  hour  when  the 
Pentecostal  flame  visited  him.  Mrs.  Child  says  of  one 
of  the  early  antislavery  meetings  :  — 

*'  I  know  there  were  very  formidable  preparations  to 
mob  the  antislavery  meeting  the  next  day  ;  I  was  excited 
and  anxious,  not  for  myself,  but  for  Wendell  Phillips. 
Hour  after  hour  of  the  night  I  heard  the  clock  strike, 
while  visions  were  passing  through  my  mind  of  that  noble 
head  assailed  by  murderous  hands.  This  meeting  was 
that  of  the  Massachusetts  Antislavery  Society,  and  it 
was  on  this  occasion  that  Mr.  Phillips,  when  his  voice 
was  drowned  by  the  mob,  stooped  forward  and  addressed 
his  speech  to  the  reporters.  Colonel  Higginson  made 
himself  heard  above  the  storm,  and  James  Freeman 
Clarke,  whose  speech  preceded  that  of  Mr.  Phillips,  was 
^treated  with  such  boisterous  insults  that  he  was  often 
obliged  to  pause.'" 

On  the  Sunday  evening  following  the  death  of  Mr. 
Phillips,  Colonel  Higginson  addressed  a  meeting  in  the 
Parker  Memorial,  and  he  gave  a  most  discriminating 
analysis  of  Mr.  Phillips,  —  the  finest  and  truest  insight 
that  has  yet  been  formulated. 

"  After  slavery  had  disappeared,"  said  Colonel  Higgin- 
son, "  Mr.  Phillips,  like  other  old  abolitionists,  men  and 
women,  was  left  for  a  moment  without  a  mission.  The 
minor  causes  they  had  advocated  seemed  hardly  enough 
for  a  lifework.  Some  of  them  found  no  work  worth 
doing  after  slavery  fell.  Garrison,  more  happy  by  his 
calm,  clear  temperament,  devoted  himself  to  a  few  strong, 
clear,  thoroughly  comprehended  causes,    and  lived   and 


70  BOSTON   DAYS 


died  for  them.  Wendell  Phillips,  more  varied  in  his 
impulses,  more  impassioned,  less  self-controlled,  was  less 
his  own  master  in  the  absence  of  his  one  great  purpose. 
He  seemed  like  a  man  feeling  around  for  an  object.  He 
grasped  here,  there,  and  everywhere  for  a  new  mission,  a 
new  cause,  new  interests,  always  heroic,  always  dis- 
interested, but  having  with  that  the  disadvantage  that 
a  man  who  had  devoted  the  prime  of  his  life  to  one  great, 
clear,  easily  comprehended  reform,  had  lost  the  study  and 
training  that  are  needed  to  grasp  the  more  complex 
reforms  that  followed  the  fall  of  slavery.  The  anti- 
slavery  movement  was  the  simplest  of  all  reforms  in  its 
principles.  It  needed  but  to  grasp  one  thought,  —  that 
man  could  not  lawfully  hold  property  in  man.  That  given, 
the  intellectual  work  was  done.  That  time  passed,  and 
there  came  the  complex  reforms  of  to-day,  —  labor  reform 
and  its  immense  difficulties,  communism,  socialism,  and 
nihilism,  questions  of  currency  and  tariff,  which  tax  the 
strongest  intellect.  In  the  midst  of  these,  Wendell 
Phillips  found  himself  unable  to  grasp  them.  He  carried 
to  them  the  simple  force  of  his  antislavery  principles, 
but  the  questions  were  not  to  be  settled  so  easily.  The 
questions  of  capital  and  labor,  of  distribution  and  re- 
adjustment, the  complicated  relation  of  the  human  race, 
cannot  be  so  easily  settled.  He  was  at  a  disadvantage 
of  the  complex  questions.  Hence  the  chafing  in  all  his 
later  life  of  a  spirit  heroic,  magnificently  unselfish,  yet 
constantly  fretting  with  the  problems  which  he  had 
grappled  too  late  in  life  for  their  full  comprehension, 
while  he  had  an  unwillingness  to  own  that  he  stood  at  the 
threshold,  which  alone  would  have  enabled  him  fully  to 
comprehend  them.  "With  that  came,  in  later  years,  an 
unconsciousness  of  the  strength  of  his  assertions  and  the 
vehemence  of  his   denunciations.     He   thouffht   that   all 


THE   CITY   OF   BEAUTIFUL   IDEALS  71 

who  were  abused  by  respectable  portions  of  society  were 
abused  as  Garrison  was,  and  must  be  right.  When  we 
think  of  the  weakened  strength  with  which  he  grasped 
great,  difficult  problems  which  are  arising  among  us,  we 
may  well  feel  grateful  that  the  measure  of  one  man's 
activity  is  fourscore  years,  when  he  may  be  dismissed 
with  the  benediction  that  he  has  gone  to  his  reward." 

The  funeral  of  Wendell  Phillips  was  an  impressive 
occasion.  Among  those  present  were  the  poet  Whittier, 
Mrs.  Julia  Ward  Howe,  Colonel  Higginson,  Frederick 
Douglass,  Louisa  M.  Alcott,  Rev.  Dr.  Bartol,  Mrs. 
Annie  Fields,  Mrs.  Lucy  Stone,  Dr.  H.  B.  Blackwell, 
Miss  Susan  B.  Anthony,  Dr.  Phillips  Brooks,  the 
sons  of  Garrison,  Mrs.  Ednah  D.  Cheney,  Miss  Anne 
Whitney,  Dr.  Bowditch,  Elizur  Wright,  Theodore  Weld, 
Abby  Morton  Diaz,  John  Boyle  O'Reilly,  President 
Eliot,  of  Harvard;  the  Rev.  Edward  Everett  Hale, 
Rev.  M.  J.  Savage,  James  Freeman  Clarke,  Frank  B. 
Sanborn,  the  Governor  of  Massachusetts  (then  Hon. 
George  D.  Robinson)  and  his  staff,  and  many  of  the 
immortals. 

There  was  an  entire  absence  of  floral  decorations,  but 
a  simple  sheaf  of  wheat  was  placed  on  the  casket. 
The  pall-bearers  included  Dr.  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes, 
Judge  Samuel  E.  Sewall,  and  Wendell  Garrison. 

The  gathering  was  a  thoroughly  American  one,  all 
nationalities,  creeds,  and  colors  being  represented.  The 
colored  element  was  particularly  prominent. 

The  choir  sang  Mr.  Whittier's  beautiful  poem  in 
which  the  stanza  occurs :  — 


72  BOSTON   DAYS 


•  "  God  calls  our  loved  ones,  but  we  lose  not  wholly 

What  He  hath  given  : 
They  live  on  earth  in  thought  and  deed  as  truly 
As  in  His  heaven." 

The  services  consisted  only  in  a  prayer  by  the  Rev. 
Samuel  Longfellow  (the  poet's  brother),  the  singing  of 
a  hymn  written  for  the  occasion,  and  a  prayer  by  the 
Rev.  Samuel  May.  In  the  prayer  by  Mr.  Longfellow  he 
said :  — 

"We  bless  Thee  for  all  that  lifts  up  our  lives  to  a 
nobler  plan  and  a  worthier  aim  ;  for  the  heroes,  the  saints, 
the  martyrs,  who  lived  by  faith  in  ideas,  in  principles,  in 
the  things  unseen,  but  most  real;  for  the  good  who  lived 
to  bless  and  help  their  fellows ;  for  the  faithful  who  lived 
for  duty;  for  the  true  who  have  chosen  to  obey  God 
rather  than  man,  willingly  bearing  the  cross  in  bearing 
witness  to  the  truth.  They  have  left  us  an  example  that 
we  should  follow  in  their  steps,  and  make  our  lives  worthy 
and  unselfish  and  noble,  and  live  not  for  the  things  that 
perish,  but  for  those  that  are  immortal." 

Frederick  Douglass,  as  he  gazed  upon  the  sculptured 
beauty  of  that  grand  face  sealed  with  the  majesty  of 
death,  said  brokenly :  ^^  I  came  not  here  alone  only 
to  see  the  remains  of  my  dear  old  friend ;  I  wanted  to 
see  this  throng,  and  to  see  the  hold  that  this  man  had 
upon  the  community.     It  is  a  wonderful  tribute." 

The  floodgates  of  reminiscence  and  anecdote  and 
memory  seemed  opened  by  the  transition  of  Wendell 
Phillips  to  the  Unseen,  and  there  was  such  an  illumina- 
tion on  that  historic  and  tragic  past  of  forty  years  ago 
as  almost  made  it  real  to  the  younger  generation.     As 


THE   CITY   OF   BEAUTIFUL   IDEALS  73 

Mrs.  Julia  Ward  Howe,  in  referring  to  the  services, 
said,  "It  was  noticeable  how  they  all  spoke  to  God 
and  did  not  speak  to  men." 

The  burial  scene  was  very  simple  and  dramatic.  The 
Phillips  family  tomb  in  the  "  Old  Granary "  burying- 
ground  was  near  the  gates  opening  on  Tremont  Street, 
where  the  ceaseless  tide  of  city  life  surged  up  and 
down,  and  the  pulse  never  ceases  to  throb.  It  was 
fitting  that  Mr.  Phillips  should  rest  there  —  in  the  heart 
of  the  city  he  so  loved. 

It  was  five  o'clock  of  that  gray  February  day,  with 
the  misty  light  rapidly  deepening  into  evening,  when 
the  funeral  cortege  reached  the  gates.  The  sidewalk 
was  filled  w^ith  people.  A  long  line  of  horse-cars  were 
blocked  by  the  crowd.  The  roofs  and  walls  and  every 
window  in  the  vicinity  was  crowded.  The  casket  was 
laid,  simply  and  reverently,  in  the  tomb  in  which  his 
father,  John  Phillips,  the  first  Mayor  of  Boston,  rests, 
and  which  is  near  the  tombs  of  Samuel  Adams,  of  Paul 
Revere,  of  John  Hancock,  of  Peter  Faneuil,  and  the 
father  and  mother  of  Franklin. 

The  beautiful  words  of  Mr.  O'Reilly  were  on  the  air  : 

"  Come,  brothers,  here  to  the  bnrial !  But  weep  not,  rather 
rejoice, 

For  his  fearless  life  and  his  fearless  death  ;  for  his  true,  un- 
equalled voice, 

Like  a  silver  trumpet  sounding  the  note  of  human  right  ; 

For  his  brave  heart  always  ready  to  enter  the  weak  one's  fight ; 

For  his  soul  unmoved  by  the  mob's  wild  shout  or  the  social 
sneer's  disgrace ; 

For  his  freeborn  spirit,  that  drew  no  line  between  class  and 
creed  and  race." 


74  BOSTON   DAYS 


In  later  years  it  was  found  that  the  tide  of  pilgrimage 
to  the  grave  of  Phillips  was  so  incessant  that  the  body 
was  removed  to  another  burying-ground. 

Mrs.  Harrison  Gray  Otis  is  a  brilliant  name  in  the 
Boston  galaxy,  as  one  with  whom  patriotism  was 
a  passion.  She  was  a  woman  of  fine  culture  and  of  cos- 
mopolitan experience.  She  had  been  presented  at 
almost  every  European  court;  she  had  probably  the 
greatest  social  prestige  that  had  at  that  time  been  given 
to  any  American  woman ;  she  had  the  entree  of  royal 
circles  and  the  nobility,  as  well  as  of  art  and  literature ; 
and  from  years  of  life  in  Europe,  of  the  most  brilliant 
and  distinguished  character,  she  returned  to  Boston 
with  enlarged  and  renewed  ardor  of  patriotic  devotion 
to  her  own  country. 

Elizabeth  Boardman  Otis  was  the  daughter  of  William 
and  Elizabeth  (Henderson)  Boardman.  Her  father 
was  a  wealthy  merchant  of  the  India  and  China  trade, 
which,  in  the  early  years  of  the  century,  was  the  chief 
source  of  Boston's  wealth.  Her  mother  was  the 
daughter  of  Joseph  Henderson,  the  first  sheriff  of  Suf- 
folk County,  whose  sword  is  preserved  among  the  relics 
in  the  old  State  House.  Miss  Boardman  received  the 
most  careful  education  and  the  most  exquisite  culture 
that  the  best  masters  could  give,  combined  with  every 
social  opportunity  and  with  travel.  While  still  a  young 
girl  she  made  a  brilliant  marriage.  Harrison  Gray  Otis 
was  the  son  of  the  Mayor  of  Boston  at  that  time,  and 
bore  his  father's  name.  The  Otis  family  stood  among 
the  highest  in  the  land,  but  social  distinction  was  not 


THE   CITY   OF   BEAUTIFUL   IDEALS  75 

an  aim  with  Mrs.  Otis.  She  was  born  to  it ;  she 
always  had  it  as  inseparable  from  her  personality  ;  she 
took  it  as  naturally  as  the  air  she  breathed,  and 
thought  nothing  of  it  in  itself.  Her  aims  and  ideals 
were  of  a  lofty  character.  Mr.  Otis  died  in  his  early 
life,  and  JMrs.  Otis  took  her  four  young  sons  to  Europe 
where  they  remained  several  years  for  their  better  study 
of  language  and  art.  She  was  herself  an  admirable 
linguist,  speaking  four  or  five  languages,  and  her  life 
abroad  was  thus  rendered  most  brilliant  and  delightful. 
It  was  somewhere  in  the  '40's  that  she  returned  to 
Boston.  She  was  born  about  1803  and  died  in  1873. 
At  this  time  Boston  was  a  small  town,  where  one  could 
go  anywhere  in  ten  minutes;  where  people  all  knew 
each  other  and  took  the  keenest  interest  in  each  other's 
personality  and  work.  Mrs.  Otis  embraced  with  ardor 
the  stirring  philanthropic  interests  of  the  day.  The 
asylum  for  the  blind,  of  which  Dr.  Samuel  G.  Howe 
was  then  at  the  head,  engaged  her  interest ;  the  "  Snug 
Harbor"  for  disabled  sailors;  the  securing  funds  for 
Thomas  Ball's  equestrian  statue  of  Washington,  and 
the  purchase  of  Washington's  tomb  at  Mount  Vernon. 
To  complete  the  fund  for  the  latter,  Mrs.  Otis  gave  a 
ball  at  the  Boston  Theatre  on  March  4,  1859,  which  is 
chronicled  as  being  "  more  splendid  in  arrangement, 
more  beautiful  in  its  array  of  fair  women  and  brave 
men,  and  nobler  in  its  purpose  than  anything  which  has 
ever  preceded  it."  The  scene  is  said  to  have  been  one 
of  unsurpassed  magnificence,  and  the  sum  of  $10,000 
was  realized  for  the  purpose. 


76  BOSTON  DAYS 


On  Washington's  birthday  Mrs.  Otis  always  opened  her 
house  for  a  public  reception.  The  spacious  rooms  were 
decorated  in  the  national  colors  and  filled  with  flowers 
sent  by  friends.  All  day  the  throng  of  citizens,  high  and 
low,  rich  and  poor,  poured  through  her  portals,  and  each 
and  all  were  welcomed  with  that  grace  and  high-bred 
courtesy  that  so  peculiarly  distinguished  this  lady.  The 
woman  who  merely  affects  the  air  of  the  great  lady  de- 
lights in  being  described  as  ^'  very  exclusive ; "  but  the 
genuine  great  lady  is,  by  that  very  attribute,  inclusive, 
and  overflowing  with  generous  good-will  to  all  hu- 
manity. The  military  processions  passing  the  house  of 
Mrs.  Otis  on  this  day  paused  and  saluted  her.  Her 
home  is  still  standing,  —  a  spacious  house  on  the  corner 
of  Mount  Vernon  and  Joy  streets,  in  the  West  End,  — 
but  it  is  now  used  for  a  boarding-house.  It  was  Mrs. 
Otis  who,  on  her  return  from  Europe^  inaugurated 
a  fuller  and  freer  social  life  in  Boston.  She  was  far  and 
away  the  most  cosmopolitan  woman  that  Boston  had 
seen,  and  it  was  an  era  in  social  life  when  she  in- 
troduced a  season  of  Saturday  afternoon  and  Thursday 
evening  receptions,  after  the  informal  European  fashion, 
serving  only  tea  and  cake,  and  thus  inaugurating  a 
finer  and  more  easy  hospitality.  On  one  of  these  re- 
ceptions it  chanced  that  there  were  present  the  Pres- 
ident of  the  United  States  (then  Mr.  Fillmore),  Lord 
Elgin,  the  Governor-General  of  Canada  and  his  suite, 
and  several  other  very  noted  men  of  the  day.  The 
Otis  mansion  was  the  centre  of  the  most  brilliant 
and   distinguished  Boston   life,   and  to  Mrs.  Otis  all 


THE   CITY   OF   BEAUTIFUL   IDEALS  77 

visitors  from  Europe  of  rank  and  distinction  invariably 
brought  letters. 

It  was,  however,  in  the  work  of  the  Civil  War  —  the 
sanitary  commission  work  —  that  Madame  Otis,  as  she 
came  to  be  called,  contributed  what  was  perhaps  the 
greatest  service  of  her  life.  A  large  building  on  Tremont 
Street  was  given  up  to  the  work,  and  the  government 
gave  its  entire  charge  into  the  hands  of  Madame  Otis. 
All  goods  and  money  for  the  use  of  the  soldiers  were 
deposited  there.  Her  splendid  energy,  her  noble  ardor 
of  patriotism,  her  irresistible  enthusiasm,  and  great  ad- 
ministrative ability  made  her  the  most  efficient  and 
valuable  aid  to  the  government.  One  of  her  first  acts 
was  to  establish  a  "  Bank  of  Faith,"  and  to  this  contri- 
butions flowed  in.  During  the  three  years  she  was  in 
charge,  over  $1,000,000  came  in,  and  not  one  penny  of 
this  was  solicited.  Is  it  not  a  remarkable  instance  of 
the  absolute  reliance  in  the  most  practical  way  that 
may  always  be  placed  on  the  Divine  power  for  sending 
the  aid  that  is  needed  for  a  just  and  holy  cause  ?  The 
entire  system  of  aid  was  based  on  voluntary  dona- 
tions. During  these  three  years  she  never  missed 
being  at  her  post  from  ten  to  three  each  day,  save 
on  Sundays  and  religious  festivals.  Madame  Otis 
left  an  impress  upon  Boston  life  that  still  remains 
vividly. 

While  her  work  had  not  the  marvellous  scope  which 
characterized  Mrs.  Livermore's  during  the  Civil  War, 
as  Mrs.  Livermore's  was  national  and  that  of  Madame 
Otis  restricted  to  the  I>[ew  England  States,  it  was  of  the 


78  BOSTON   DAYS 


same  generous  and  noble  quality  which  so  signally  im- 
mortalizes that  of  Mary  A.  Livermore. 

The  literary  homes  of  Boston  were  a  signal  feature 
of  the  city.  The  home  of  Prof.  George  Ticknor,  the 
Spanish  historian,  stood  on  the  corner  of  Park  and 
Beacon  streets,  and  there  for  forty  years  a  cordial  and 
gracious  hospitality  prevailed.  After  fifteen  years  at 
Harvard,  Professor  Ticknor  was  succeeded  by  the  poet 
Longfellow,  and  in  1835  he  went  abroad  with  his 
family,  remaining  four  years  and  sharing  the  social  life 
of  courts  and  nobility.  It  was  at  the  Ticknor  house 
that  Lafayette  was  entertained  when  in  Boston,  at  a 
little  Sunday  night  supper  which  is  still  famous  in 
Boston  annals.  Among  other  guests  were  President 
and  Mrs.  Quincy,  Daniel  Webster,  and  Mr.  Prescott. 

The  Adams  family  were  then,  as  always,  prominent  in 
all  that  made  for  the  local  as  well  as  the  national  de- 
velopments of  progress.  The  comparative  modernity 
of  the  Republic  is  emphasized  by  the  fact  that  the 
great-grandson  of  its  second  President,  John  Adams, 
died  within  the  last  decade,  with  a  more  famous  brother 
still  living.  John  Quincy  Adams,  grandson  of  the  Presi- 
dent whose  name  he  bears,  great-grandson  of  John 
Adams,  who  succeeded  Washington,,  and  the  son  of 
Charles  Francis  Adams,  the  first  Republican  Minister 
to  the  Court  of  St.  James,  died  at  his  home.  Mount 
Wollaston,  Quincy,  at  the  comparatively  early  age  of 
sixty-one.  In  a  national  sense  he  was  hardly  prominent, 
but  a  deep  interest  is  associated  with  his  honored  and 
historic  name.     The  antiquarian  might  prowl  about  the 


THE   CITY   OF   BEAUTIFUL   IDEALS  79 

quaint  old  towns  of  Quincy,  Quincy  Adams,  Braintree, 
and  the  estate  of  Mount  Wollaston  with  no  little 
reward.  The  three  towns  are  a  little  out  of  Boston, 
and  the  resident  traveller  is  always  amused  to  see  the 
way  strangers  throw  open  the  car  windows  and  lean 
out  and  gaze  as  the  quaint  names  are  called  by  the 
conductor.  The  widow  of  Col.  Edmund  Quincy  died 
in  Braintree  in  1700,  and  Judge  Sewall,  who  attended 
the  funeral,  thus  describes  the  event  in  his  journal, 
which  is  preserved  among  historical  documents. 

' "  Because  of  the  porrige  of  snow  [writes  Judge  Sewall] 
the  bearers  rid  to  the  grave,  alighting  a  little  before  they 
came  there.  Manners,  Cousin  Edward  and  his  sister  rid 
first;  then  Mrs.  Anna  Quincy,  widow,  behind  Mr.  Allen, 
and  Cousin  Ruth  Hunt  behind  her  husband." 

The  conscious  way  in  which  people  took  themselves 
in  those  days  has  resulted  in  leaving  the  most  minute 
records  of  trifles.  Very  little  happened,  and  thus  they 
had  abundance  of  time  to  set  it  down.  Even  in  the 
literary  life  of  the  Nineteenth  century,  whenever  two  or 
three  Bostonians  met  together  in  the  home  of  culture 
they  seem  to  have  always  gone  home  and  written  down 
their  respective  remarks.  In  one  of  Louisa  Alcott's 
diary  records  she  notes  of  an  evening:  ''Mr.  Parker 
[Theodore  Parker]  came  to  me  and  said,  'Well,  child, 
how  goes  it  ? '  '  Pretty  well,  sir.'  '  That 's  brave,'  he  said." 

In  all  the  diaries  of  the  Alcotts,  Emerson,  Margaret 
Fuller,  James  Freeman  Clarke,  Sophia  Hawthorne,  and 
Miss  Peabody,  the  reader  constantly  finds  recorded  the 


80  BOSTON   DAYS 


remarks  some  one  has  made  during  a  call  or  meeting. 
"  I  met  Mr.  Emerson  by  the  large  tree  near  the  two 
roads.  He  said :  '  It  is  a  fine  day/  "  is  a  typical  speci- 
men hardly  exaggerated.  It  illustrates  the  serious  way 
that  they  all  took  themselves  and  each  other.  The 
infinite  entertainment  afforded  by^all  those  old  records 
is  not  the  least  of  the  enjoyments  of  living  in  the  very 
heart  of  their  atmosphere. 

In  the  old  Quincy  house  at  Braintree  there  is  one 
room  still  hung  with  curious  Chinese  paper  placed 
there  in  1777  to  prepare  to  do  honor  to  the  marriage  of 
Dorothy  Quincy  and  John  Hancock.  The  house  in 
which  John  Adams  died  is  still  extant^  incorporated 
with  the  larger  mansion  built  on  its  site,  and  in  it  is 
still  one  room  panelled,  from  floor  to  ceiling,  in  solid 
mahogany.  The  Adams  genealogy,  including  the 
Quincy,  Hoar,  and  Norton  branches,  is  a  matter  of 
national  history  and  need  not  be  touched  upon  here. 
Dr.  Holmes,  as  is  widely  known  by  his  witty  poem 
"Dorothy  Q.,"  traces  a  family  connection  with  the 
Quincys,  and  Wendell  Phillips  and  Phillips  Brooks 
were  remotely  connected  with  each  other  and  with 
Dr.  Holmes  through  the  Wendells.  Prof  Charles 
Eliot  Norton,  of  Harvard,  traces  his  ancestry  to  the 
Nortons  who  intermarried  with  the  Quincys.  New 
England  genealogy  —  if  one  has  a  taste  for  social 
analysis  and  the  study  of  hereditary  traits  —  offers  a 
very  fascinating  field,  as  the  individualities  are  so  prom- 
inent and  as  they  represent  ideas,  movements,  and  the 
general  forces  of  progress. 


THE   CITY   OF   BEAUTIFUL   IDEALS  81 

Charles  Francis  Adams,  Minister  to  England  under 
Lincoln,  was  a  remarkable  man.  John  Quincy  Adams, 
who  had  been  locally  prominent  in  politics,  rather 
endured  than  desired  political  office ;  he  was  a  good 
citizen  in  his  town  of  Quincy,  where  he  had  always 
lived,  passing  the  winter  in  his  town  house  on  Mount 
Vernon  Street  in  Boston.  The  Adams  family  are  not 
imaginative  and  ardent  by  temperament,  but  they  are 
conspicuous  for  sound  intellect,  cool,  calm,  and  more  or 
less  dispassionate  views  ;  they  are  logical,  honorable,  and 
just.  Many  people  believe  the  calm,  dispassionate  one 
to  be  the  genuine  New  England  type,  but  nothing  could 
be  more  remote  from  the  truth.  Xew  England  is  the 
land  of  romance,  of  poetry,  of  imaginative  grace,  of 
spiritual  fervor,  of  idealism.  It  is  the  home  of  the 
mystic.  If  one  can  find  and  fit  the  magic  key  he  can 
open  and  read  at  will  many  a  curious  volume  of  for- 
gotten history.  There  have  been  such  treasures  of 
moral  earnestness,  of  religious  faith,  of  spiritual  ecstasy 
poured  out  in  New  England  that  it  has  become  trans- 
muted into  a  certain  fine  exaltation  of  life  —  into  artistic 
and  creative  energy. 

The  most  notable  member  of  the  Adams  family  of 
late  years  is  Charles  Francis  Adams,  Senior,  a  lawyer,  a 
railway  magnate,  and  a  man  of  letters.  One  of  the 
ablest,  the  most  fascinating  and  significant  contributions 
to  contemporary  literature  is  his  great  work,  "  Three 
Episodes  of  Massachusetts  History." 

Before  the  decade  of  1840-50  few  Bostonians  left 
their  homes  for  the  summer ;  but  the  Ticknors  always 

6 


82  BOSTON    DAYS 


went  to  Nahant  or  Portland ;  the  Prescotts  had  their 
country  house;  Mr.  Longfellow  had  a  cottage  at 
Nahant ;  Mrs.  Howe  a  cottage  near  Newport,  and  in 
the  summer  that  Tennyson's  poem  "In  Memoriam" 
was  first  published,  George  William  Curtis  and  Charles 
Sumner  journeyed  there  to  read  with  Mrs.  Howe  the 
wonderful  new  poem  that  thrilled  two  nations. 

There  was  an  occultation  of  correspondence  in  those 
days  among  the  choice  spirits.  A  little  (undated)  note 
from  Emerson  to  Whipple  thus  runs :  — 

Concord,  Saturday  Morning. 

Dear  Whipple,  —  I  believe  you  bade  me  come  to 
your  house  to-morrow  evening,  and  I  was  to  make  a  reply 
later.  I  hope  it  is  not  too  late  honorably  to  say  that 
Samuel  Ward  had  asked  me  for  the  same  hour,  a  little 
before  you  at  the  club,  but  with  a  little  uncertainty  about 
his  being  in  town.  But  now  he  is,  and  has  got  my  boy 
there  with  him,  and  his  family  are  such  uncertain,  transient 
meteors  that  I  think  I  must  go.  So  you  shall  let  me  pay 
my  respects  to  you  another  day. 

Ever  yours, 

Ralph  Waldo  Emerson. 

The  loneliness  of  James  Russell  Lowell  in  those  days 
of  his  early  poetic  flights  is  revealed  in  the  following 
letter  written  by  him  to  Mr.  Whipple,  who  at  that  time 
was  editing  a  paper  called  the  "  Boston  Notion."  Mr. 
Lowell  did  not  even  know  the  name  of  the  editor  whose 
recognition  of  his  powers  was  almost  the  first  he  had 
received,  but  in  his  grateful  appreciation  of  it  he  wrote 
as  follows :  — 


THE   CITY   OF   BEAUTIFUL   IDEALS  83 

Boston,  Oct.  12,  1841. 
My  dear  Editor,  —  You  are  to  me  a  mere  nominus 
umbra,  — but  confident  that  you  are  somebody  or  other,  I 
wish  to  thank  you  for  your  kind  notice  of  me  in  last  Satur- 
day's "  Notion."  I  regard  unkind  criticism  as  little  as  need 
be,  —  yet  it  is  owing  to  puffing  obtained  by  utterly  worthless 
and  mediocre  poets,  and  the  ease  with  which  they  obtain 
access  to  the  columns  of  newspapers,  too  common  in  this 
country.  But  these  unknown  friends  which  the  poor 
poet  makes,  —  these  hands  stretched  out  to  give  him  a 
grasp  of  grateful  encouragement  across  whole  oceans  or 
continents,  —  these  make  up  for  many  troubles.  Is  it 
not  strange  that  poets  who  must  be  the  warmest  hearted  of 
men  should  most  often  be  the  hardliest  educated  ?  It  was 
very  grateful  to  me  as  I  took  up  your  paper  in  a  public 
room,  where  there  was  but  one  face  in  many  that  I  knew, 
and  saw  some  kmd  words  about  myself,  to  think  that, 
perchance,  the  writer  was  now  in  the  room  and  that 
among  these  strangers  I  yet  had  a  friend.  I  send  you 
my  volume,  which  I  hope  you  will  like,  and  if  you  find 
anything  congenial  in  the  enclosed  poem,  print  it  in  your 
next  "Notion."     And  so,  my  good  unknown,  I  am  yours 

in  sympathy, 

James  Russell  Lowell. 

P.  S.  —  It  just  occurred  to  me  that  some  editors  prefix 
the  notes  of  their  correspondence  to  their  verses.  If  you 
print  my  poem,  do  not  print  this. 

J.  R.  L. 

The  home  of  Mr.  Longfellow  was  a  centre  of  emi- 
nent and  beautiful  hospitalities.  In  1852  Kossuth,  the 
Hungarian  patriot  and  exile,  accompanied  by  his  friends, 
Count  and  Countess  Pulszky,  visited  Boston.  Mr.  Long- 
fellow gave  a  dinner  for  them  at  which  Mrs.  Howe  was 


84  BOSTON   DAYS 


also  a  guest.  "  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin  "  had  appeared,  and 
the  poet  records  that  every  evening  he  and  Mrs.  Long- 
fellow read  themselves  into  despair  over  that  tragic 
story  of  which  one  million  copies  were  sold  within  the 
first  year  of  its  publication. 

"  The  Scarlet  Letter "  was  published  and  made  a 
profound  impression.  Charlotte  Cushman  was  playing, 
and  in  one  of  Victor  Hugo's  dramas,  the  "  Actress  of 
Padua,"  she  especially  interested  Mr.  Longfellow,  al- 
though he  thought  her  acting  too  powerful  and  says, 
"I  like  less  acting  better."  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Howe, 
Charles  Sumner,  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Longfellow  shared  a 
box  on  the  occasion  of  the  premiere  of  this  play.  Jenny 
Lind  entranced  the  music-lovers  and  the  populace  alike, 
and  a  group  of  sonnets  of  Elizabeth  Barrett  Browning 
appeared  in  "  Graham's  Magazine,"  inciting  discussion  : 
President  Quincy  of  Harvard  was  then  living,  "  hale  and 
hearty  at  the  age  of  eighty,"  as  Longfellow  records,  and 
knowing  everything  except,  perhaps,  his  own  name, 
which  tradition  says  that  he  forgot  on  one  occasion 
when  in  the  post  office  inquiring  for  his  mail.  Fanny 
Kemble  Butler  came  with  her  glowing  interpretations 
of  Shakspeare,  reading  ^'  The  Tempest,"  ''  Eomeo  and 
Juliet,"  "  Macbeth,"  and  other  plays,  and  of  the  former 
Mr.  Longfellow  writes  :  — 

"  We  went  to  hear  Mrs.  Butler  read  '  The  Tempest.' 
A  crowded  house.  A  reading-desk  covered  with  red,  on 
a  platform,  like  the  gory  block  on  the  scaffold ;  upon 
which  the  magnificent  Fanny  bowed  her  head  in  tears  and 
great  emotion.    But  in  a  moment  it  became  her  triumphal 


THE   CITY   OF   BEAUTIFUL   IDEALS  85 

chariot.  What  glorious  reading !  the  spiritual  Ariel,  the 
stern  Prospero,  the  lover  Ferdinand,  Miranda  the  beloved, 
Stefano,  Trinculo,  Caliban,  —  each  had  a  voice  distinct 
and  separate,  as  of  many  actors.  And  what  a  glorious 
poem  is  '  The  Tempest ! '  —  hardly  a  play,  for  its  dramatic 
interest  is  its  least  interest.  It  is  an  emblem  of  the 
power  of  mind  over  matter.  Ariel  is  an  embodied  thought 
projected  from  Prospero,  obeying  his  will,  subduing  and 
controlling  the  elements.  It  is  the  apotheosis  of  intellect. 
The  poet's  hand  here  sweeps  the  whole  harp  of  human 
life,  from  Ariel  to  Caliban,  the  great  bass  string." 

Wagner's  music  was  beginning  to  be  known  even 
in  the  early  fifties,  and  Mr.  Longfellow  accompanied 
Mrs.  Howe  to  an  orchestral  concert  when  the  wonder- 
ful overture  to  Tannhauser  was  produced.  Jenny  Lind 
with  the  young  pianist,  Mr.  Goldschmidt,  who  after- 
ward became  her  husband,  went  out  to  call  on  the  poet 
and  lunched  with  him  and  Mrs.  Longfellow;  Sumner 
dined  with  them,  and  they  gave  a  farewell  dinner  to 
Hawthorne,  on  the  eve  of  his  sailing  for  his  consulate  at 
Liverpool,  at  which  the  guests  were  Emerson,  Arthur 
Hugh  Clough,  Lowell,  and  Charles  Eliot  Norton.  Dr. 
and  Mrs.  Howe  give  a  dinner  at  which  Sumner  Adams 
and  Palfrey  are  guests,  and  Mr.  Longfellow  notes  that 
he,  a  singer,  came  in  as  Alfred  among  the  Danes. 
Arthur  Hugh  Clough,  then  visiting  Boston,  gave  a  din- 
ner at  his  hotel,  the  old  Tremont  House,  to  Emerson, 
and  invited  Mr.  Longfellow,  Charles  Sumner,  Horatio 
Greenough,  the  sculptor,  Lowell,  Hawthorne,  and 
Theodore  Parker,  and  they  all  adjourned  to  Music  Hall 
to  hear  Alboni.    Mrs.  Browning's  ^^  Drama  of  Exile  " 


86  BOSTON   DAYS 


appeared,  and  all  literary  Boston  read  it.  The  tragedy 
of  Margaret  Fuller's  death  occurred,  and  Mr.  Longfellow 
writes :  — 

"  The  papers  bring  us  news  of  the  wreck  of  the  '  Eliza- 
beth' on  Fire  Island,  and  the  loss  of  Horace  Sumner, 
and  of  Margaret  Fuller,  Marchioness  d'Ossoli,  with  her 
husband  and  child.  What  a  calamity!  A  singular  woman 
for  New  England  to  produce  ;  original  and  somewhat  self- 
willed  ;  but  full  of  talent  and  full  of  work.  A  tragic  end 
to  a  somewhat  troubled  and  romantic  life." 

A  potent  and  beneficent  individuality  of  those  days 
was  Elizabeth  Peabody,  the  sister-in-law  of  Horace 
Mann  and  of  Nathaniel  Hawthorne ;  the  friend  of 
Channing,  Allston,  Emerson,  Theodore  Parker,  Mar- 
garet Fuller,  Sarah  Holland  Adams,  James  Freeman 
Clarke ;  of  Motley,  Bayard  Taylor,  Bronson  Alcott ;  of 
Mazzini,  Froebel,  Carlyle,  Lord  Houghton,  George 
Eliot,  and  many  another  of  the  greatest  minds  of  a  half 
century  ago,  —  a  woman  who  lived  much  in  the  lives 
of  other  people.  She  was  the  friend,  the  sympathizer, 
the  inspirer  of  ideas.  She  cared  nothing  for  personal 
fame,  and  everything  for  personal  service. 

Hawthorne  and  Elizabeth  Peabody  were  close  friends 
before  he  became  engaged  to  her  younger  sister,  Sophia, 
and  on  her  return  one  day  from  an  absence  it  is  said 
that,  observing  the  sympathy  of  attraction  between 
them,  she  said,  ''I  now  take  you  both  into  my  heart." 

All  the  forces  of  heredity  predestined  Elizabeth 
Peabody  as  an  educator.  Her  father.  Dr.  Nathaniel 
Peabody,  met  the  woman  who  became  his  wife  while 


THE   CITY   OF   BEAUTIFUL   IDEALS  87 

he  was  teaching  a  school  for  boys  and  she  one  for  girls 
in  Andover.  This  was  in  1800.  Two  years  later  they 
were  married,  and  in  May  of  1804  Elizabeth  Peabody 
was  born  in  Billerica,  a  little  village  between  Lowell 
and  Boston,  where  Mrs.  Peabody  had  established  a 
boarding-school  for  girls.  The  mother  was  a  trained 
English  scholar  with  cultivated  tastes  and  never-failing 
aspirations.  The  father  was  a  classical  student  and 
taught  his  daughter  Latin  in  her  earliest  childhood. 
Their  home  was  of  refining  and  uplifting  influences. 
They  had  no  money,  but  they  had  possessions  more 
valuable. 

Miss  Peabody  was  one  of  that  remarkable  group  of 
persons  born  in  or  near  Boston  in  those  early  years  of  the 
past  century.  She  began  teaching  at  the  age  of  sixteen 
(in  1820),  and  her  intellectual  activity  hardly  waned 
from  that  date  until  about  1888  or  1889.  At  one  time 
she  had  a  class  of  girls  in  Salem  whom  she  instructed  in 
literature ;  she  had  a  school  on  Mount  Vernon  Street 
in  Boston,  and  she  assisted  Mr.  Alcott  in  the  famous 
school  he  established  in  this  city.  On  Sept.  22,  1839, 
Mr.  Alcott  records  in  his  diary  :  — 

"  I  opened  school  to-day  with  thirty  children,  and  am 
assisted  by  Miss  Peabody,  who  unites  intellectual  and 
practical  qualities  of  no  common  order.  Her  proposition 
to  aid  me  comes  from  the  deep  interest  she  feels  in 
human  culture.  ...  I  have  spared  no  pains  to  surround 
the  pupils  with  appropriate  emblems  of  intellectual  and 
spiritual  life.  Paintings,  busts,  books,  have  been  deemed 
important.     I   wish  to  fill  every  form    that  dresses  the 


88  BOSTON   DAYS 


senses  with  significance  and  life,  so  that  whatever  is  seen, 
said,  or  done  shall  picture  ideal  beauty  and  perfection, 
thus  placing  the  child  in  a  scene  of  tranquil  repose  and 
spiritual  loveliness." 

Somewhere  in  the  early  decade  of  1830-40,  the 
Peabodys  removed  to  a  house  on  West  Street  in  this 
city,  where  Miss  Peabody  utilized  their  front  room  as  a 
foreign  book  store  and  circulating  library.  She  im- 
ported the  French  and  German  books  of  the  day,  and 
this  room  became  a  meeting  place,  a  "  literary  centre," 
where  groups  of  the  people  who  were  making  the 
thought  of  the  day  could  be  found.  There  would  drop 
in  Emerson,  Dr.  Hedge,  James  Freeman  Clarke,  and 
Margaret  Fuller.  The  idea  of  the  Church  of  the 
Disciples  first  occurred  to  Dr.  Clarke  in  this  room. 

The  Boston  of  this  time  was  one  that  dined  at  two 
p.  M. ;  that  found  its  artistic  ecstasies  largely  satisfied 
with  what  Henry  James  has  since  termed  the  '^  attenu- 
ated drawings"  of  Flaxman ;  that  took  a  strong  and 
abiding^  interest  in  the  movements  for  greater  liberty 
and  progress  in  Europe,  sympathizing  with  Kossuth  and 
Mazzini ;  that  read  its  German  classics  and  held  the 
faith  of  the  absolute  supremacy  of  the  spiritual  life. 
Their  special  diversion  appears  to  have  been  "  Conver- 
sations." There  was  held  (in  1848)  a  series  of  these 
on  "  Self-Knowledge,"  in  which  Emerson,  Thoreau, 
Theodore  Parker,  W.  H.  Channing,  Miss  Peabody, 
Mrs.  Cheney,  and  James  Freeman  Clarke  all  took  part. 

In  1867  Miss  Peabody  again  revisited  Europe  and 
passed  a  winter  at  Rome.     Every  morning  she  break- 


THE   CITY   OF   BEAUTIFUL   IDEALS  89 

fasted  with  Charlotte  Cushman  —  by  Miss  Cushmaii's 
invitation  —  and  of  this  time  she  says  in  a  letter  to  a 
friend :  — 

''  Never  was  my  mind  in  such  a  state  of  activity. 
It  seems  to  me  that  I  came  to  my  mental  majority  that 
year,  and  all  my  own  life  and  the  world's  life,  as  history 
had  taught  it  to  me,  was  explained.  .  .  .  Do  you  recollect 
how  I  used  to  come  and  announce  my  discoveries  in  the 
world  of  morals  and  spiritual  life,  whose  gates  seemed  to 
be  opened  to  me  by  the  historical  monuments  as  well  as 
the  masterpieces  of  art?  What  golden  hours  those  were 
when  such  grand  receptive  hearts  and  imaginations 
bettered  one's  thoughts  in  the  reply ! " 

The  initiation  of  that  reform  whose  fulfilment  came 
so  slowly  —  the  political  enfranchisement  of  women  — 
was  a  stirring  and  vital  idea  of  these  days,  led  by  sweet 
Lucy  Stone. 

In  this  great  movement,  which  has  been  less  the 
emancipation  than  the  development  and  advancement 
of  woman's  life,  Lucy  Stone  was  easily  the  most 
potent  factor.  Her  life  pre-eminently  stands  for  the 
development  of  humanity.  No  woman  of  the  present 
or  the  future  is  so  great  or  so  fortunate  as  not  to  receive 
benefit  from  the  life  of  this  woman,  who  was  born  into 
the  simple  and  primitive  conditions  of  a  farmer's 
daughter  in  New  England.  No  woman  of  the  present 
or  the  future  is  so  humble  or  so  obscure  as  not  to  have 
her  life  broadened,  her  possibilities  enlarged,  because 
Lucy  Stone  has  lived.  Her  personality  inspires  such 
tender  remembrance  that  it  is  a  little  difi&cult  to  exclude 


90  BOSTON   DAYS 


all  personal  feeling  and  sketch  dispassionately  the  out- 
line of  this  great,  this  noble  and  beautiful  life.  The 
pen  falters,  and  the  eye  sees  only  dimly  through  tears 
that  silent  home  where  the  music  of  her  voice  is  stilled, 
and  from  which  her  spirit  went  forth  to  its  larger 
ministry.  Yet  it  is  good  to  dwell  on  this  life  that  was 
lived  so  serenely,  so  bravely,  so  resplendently  before  us. 
We  may  well  pause  before  it  as  at  a  sacrament. 

Lucy  Stone  was  born  near  West  Brookfield,  Mass., 
on  Aug.  13,  1818,  the  daughter  of  Francis  and  Hannah 
H.  (Matthews)  Stone.  Of  a  family  of  nine  children  she 
was  the  eighth.  She  was  but  eight  years  the  junior 
of  Margaret  Fuller,  whose  comparatively  early  death 
seems  to  throw  her  a  generation  farther  backward. 
She  was  one  year  the  senior  of  Julia  Ward  Howe  and 
of  James  Russell  Lowell.  The  years  from  1803  to 
1824  are  luminous  in  New  England  history  with  the 
appearance  of  the  constellation  of  great  spirits  who  came 
as  teachers  to  their  century.  They,  our  poets  and 
prophets,  have  shaped  our  Nation's  destiny.  In  his 
chancellor's  address  before  the  University  of  New  York 
in  1890  George  William  Curtis  said :  — 

*'  Amid  the  exaltation  and  commotion  of  material  success 
let  this  university  here  annually  announce  in  words  and 
deeds  the  dignity  and  superiority  of  the  intellectual  and 
spiritual  life,  and  strengthen  itself  to  resist  the  insidious 
invasion  of  that  life  by  the  superb  and  seductive  spirit  of 
material  prosperity." 

These  words  convey  the  essence  of  the  spirit  in  which 
this   group   of  rare  and   noble  persons    of  that   time 


THE   CITY   OF  BEAUTIFUL   IDEALS  91 

lived  and  which  they  taught  to  the  world.  They 
stood  for  the  supremacy  of  the  higher  life  over  the 
lower,  and  among  them  all  no  braver  or  more  resolute 
work  was  done  for  humanity's  uplifting  than  the  per- 
sonal work  of  Lucy  Stone. 

Her  ancestry  is  what  in  New  England  parlance 
is  called  "  good  IS^ew  England  stock."  The  expression 
defines  a  certain  flawless  integrity  of  life  that  the 
Pilgrim  Fathers  held  as  the  first  essential.  To  be 
scrupulously  honest  and  just,  to  be  industrious  and 
intelligent,  was  their  creed.  Not  unfrequently  was 
there  narrowness  and  hardness  in  this  life.  It  was  apt 
to  be  prosaic  and  colorless,  but  it  was  an  eminently 
sure  and  safe  foundation  for  the  superstructure  of  the 
larger  development  that  was  to  come.  Francis  and 
Hannah  Stone  were  of  this  quality.  Mr.  Stone  was  a 
small  farmer,  prosperous  in  his  activities  and  greatly 
respected  by  his  neighbors.  But  he  believed,  with  his 
generation,  that  the  husband  was  the  rightly  appointed 
ruler  over  his  wife,  and  that  education  in  the  larger 
sense,  while  necessary  for  his  sons,  was  quite  superfluous 
for  his  daughters.  The  little  Lucy  was  born  to  combat 
this.  Almost  .from  her  cradle  she  exhibited  that  in- 
vincible resolution  that  characterized  her  womanhood. 
She  was  a  vigorous,  sturdy,  uncompromising  little 
maiden,  a  keen  student,  standing  first  in  her  classes  at 
the  country  school,  always  industrious  and  active. 
Often,  she  has  told  us,  she  has  driven  the  cows  over  the 
hills  barefooted  in  the  early  dawn  ere  the  starlight  had 
paled  before   the  sunrise,  when  the  cold  dew  on  the 


92  BOSTON   DAYS 


grass  made  her  shiver ;  yet  always  with  that  radiant 
sense  of  the  beauty  of  the  morning  that  was  a  part  of 
a  naturally  poetic  nature.  The  household  life  was  one 
of  toil.  Her  motlier  engaged  in  all  the  homely  domestic 
labor,  and  the  children  were  taught  to  lend  a  hand  as 
an  inevitable  result  of  their  conditions.  Very  early  in 
her  childhood  Lucy  Stone's  ruling  purpose  began  to 
assert  itself.  She  rebelled  against  the  authority  of  her 
father  over  her  mother,  and  being  told  it  was  the  law, 
she  said,  in  childish  utterance,  that  such  laws  must  be 
changed.  Even  then,  however  unconsciously,  her 
destiny  was  upon  her.  Those  whom  the  Lord  hath 
anointed  are  sealed  with  His  seal. 

When  the  young  girl  announced  her  intention  to  go 
to  college,  her  father  asked  :  "  Is  the  child  crazy  ?  "  He 
would  not  — perhaps  he  could  not  —  give  her  the 
money  to  go.  But  when  did  ever  the  lack  of  material 
aid  stop  in  its  progress  a  dauntless  spirit?  A  noble 
purpose,  like  love,  laughs  at  locksnriiths.  If  a  god 
wishes  to  ride,  says  Emerson,  every  chip  and  stem  will 
bud  and  shoot  out  winged  feet  to  carry  him.  In  the 
case  of  Lucy  Stone,  a  goddess  wished  to  ride  —  and  she 
rode.  In  our  colloquial  phrasing  of  the  day  she 
"  arrived."  Beginning  in  her  early  teens,  Lucy  Stone 
worked  and  saved  until  she  was  twenty-five  years  old 
before  she  had  the  little  fund  to  enable  her  to  start  for 
Oberlin,  the  only  college  of  the  day  that  admitted 
women.  How  did  she  gain  it  ?  Not  by  china  paint- 
ing and  music  lessons.  Instead,  she  earned  money 
by  picking  berries   and   selling  them   to   buy   books; 


THE   CITY   OF   BEAUTIFUL   IDEALS  9S 

she  studied  the  books  and  became  a  district  school 
teacher.  And  a  most  successful  one  she  was ;  still,  being 
only  a  woman,  she  received  only  a  fraction  of  the  salary 
paid  to  men.  The  day  came  that  this  dauntless  young 
woman  started  for  Oberlin.  Her  scanty  resources  were 
too  precious  to  afford  comforts,  and  in  crossing  Lake 
Erie  she  slept  with  several  other  women  on  a  pile  6f 
grain  sacks  on  deck  because  staterooms  were  beyond 
their  finances.  It  is  a  picture  to  be  held  in  reverence 
by  the  younger  women  whose  possibilities  in  life  are  so 
infinitely  enlarged  and  uplifted  because  of  the  girl  who 
picked  berries  to  buy  books  and  who  slept  on  deck  that 
she  might  journey  to  a  college  course.  Can  too  much 
honor  be  given  to  that  sublime  courage  that  held  its 
unfaltering  view  of  the  end,  however  hard  and  distaste- 
ful the  means  ? 

Here  was  an  American  heroine.  Let  us  never  cover 
from  sight  one  homely  detail  of  her  privations  and  her 
sacrifices.  That  she  did  housework  in  the  "Ladies' 
Boarding-hall "  at  Oberlin  at  three  cents  an  hour  ;  that 
she  cooked  her  own  food  in  her  room  and  lived  — 
as  she  herself  related  the  story  —  on  fifty  cents  a 
week ;  that  she  washed  and  ironed  her  clothes,  and 
added  to  this  teaching  in  the  preparatory  department, 
—  let  this  ascendency  of  the  higher  powers  over  the 
lower  never  be  concealed  in  any  sketch  of  the  life  of 
Lucy  Stone.  Dante,  in  his  exile  and  poverty,  was  not 
more  noble  in  exaltation  of  spirit  than  this  New  Eng- 
land farmer's  daughter  in  her  quest  for  knowledge  and 
intellectual  resources.     But,  ah !  the  outward  poverty 


94  BOSTON   DAYS 


and  the  inward  riches  !  The  limitations  in  the  material, 
the  extensions  into  the  spiritual !  Here  was  the  young 
woman  boarding  herself  at  fifty  cents  a  week  and  doing 
housework  at  three  cents  an  hour,  yet  being  able  to 
donate  her  time  and  strength  and  services  to  teach  a 
colored  school  for  the  many  fugitive  slaves  whom  Ober- 
lin,  as  a  station  of  the  '^  underground  railroad,"  attracted. 
During  this  time  she  made  her  first  public  speech,  and 
was  remonstrated  with  by  the  wife  of  the  President 
of  Oberlin  for  doing  what  was  unscriptural  and  un- 
womanly !  In  1847,  at  the  age  of  twenty-nine,  she 
graduated  from  Oberlin.  At  once  she  entered  on  what 
was  to  be  the  work  of  her  life.  After  giving  some  lec- 
tures for  "  woman's  rights,"  as  the  incipient  movement 
was  then  known,  she  was  engaged  by  the  Antislavery 
Society  to  speak.  But  the  cause  of  women  took  prece- 
dence in  her  mind.  Rev.  Samuel  J.  May  remonstrated, 
and  she  finally  arranged  to  divide  her  lectures  between 
the  two  causes. 

Volumes  could  be  written  regarding  her  early  lecture 
experiences  and  the  social  conditions  of  the  time.  There 
was  no  demand  for  her  theme.  She  had  to  overcome 
prejudice,  break  down  barriers,  create  the  demand  for 
the  lecture,  and  then  meet  it. 

She  would  go  out  to  put  up  her  own  posters  with  a 
paper  of  tacks  and  a  stone  for  a  hammer. 

But  the  personality  of  Lucy  Stone  not  only  disarmed 
prejudice,  but  won  all  hearts.  Her  daughter,  Alice 
Stone  Blackwell,  relates  this  incident :  — 


THE   CITY   OF   BEAUTIFUL   IDEALS  95 

' '  At  one  woman's  rights  meeting  in  New  York  the  mob 
was  making  such  a  clamor  that  it  was  impossible  for  any 
speaker  to  be  heard.  One  after  another  tried  it,  only  to 
have  his  or  her  voice  drowned  forthwith  by  hoots  and 
howls.  William  Henry  Channing  advised  Lucretia  Mott, 
who  was  presiding,  to  adjourn  the  meeting.  Mrs.  Mott 
answered,  '  When  the  hour  fixed  for  adjournment  comes, 
I  will  adjourn  the  meeting;  not  before.'  At  last  Lucy 
Stone  was  introduced.  The  mob  became  as  quiet  as  a 
congregation  of  church-goers ;  but  as  soon  as  the  next 
speaker  began,  the  howling  recommenced,  and  it  con- 
tinued to  the  end.  At  the  close  of  the  meeting,  when 
the  speakers  went  into  the  dressing-room  to  get  their  hats 
and  cloaks,  the  mob  surged  in  and  surrounded  them  ;  and 
Lucy  Stone,  who  was  brimming  over  with  indignation, 
began  to  reproach  them  for  their  behavior.  '  Oh,  come,' 
they  answered,  '  you  need  n't  say  anything ;  we  kept 
still  for  you.'  " 

In  1853  there  was  a  "hearing"  before  the  legislature 
of  Massachusetts  for  a  petition  for  woman's  rights,  the 
first  signature  being  that  of  Mrs.  Alcott.  Among  the 
speakers  were  Theodore  Parker,  Wendell  Phillips,  and 
Lucy  Stone.  Among  the  hearers  was  Henry  B.  Black- 
well.  Already  in  sympathy  with  her  speeches,  he  was 
charmed  with  the  speaker.  For  three  years  he  pressed 
his  suit  that  she  would  be  his  wife,  and  at  last  was 
rewarded  with  success,  although  she  had  resolved 
never  to  marry,  but  to  devote  her  life  to  her  work. 
Her  husband  won  her  by  the  pledge  and  promise  that 
she  should  find  greater  support  in  it  through  him. 
How  perfectly  that  promise  has  been  kept,  the  world 
knows.     Truly   the   marriage   of  Henry  B.  Blackwell 


96  BOSTON   DAYS 


and  Lucy  Stone  was  one  that  fulfilled  the  poet's  ideal 

of  being 

''  yoked  in  all  exercise  of  noble  aims." 

In  her  home  in  West  Brookfield,  Mass.,  in  1855, 
they  were  married,  Colonel  Higginson,  then  an  Unita- 
rian clergyman,  performing  the  ceremony.  It  was  mu- 
tually agreed  that  the  bride  should  retain  her  own  name 
and  be  known  as  Mrs.  Lucy  Stone.  This  was  to  her  a 
matter  of  the  ethics  of  individuality. 

Since  then  what  is  the  story  of  their  wedded  life? 
It  is  that  of  a  crescendo  of  personal  happiness,  of 
mutual  work  for  humanity  through  the  uplifting  and 
advancement  of  women,  of  the  ever-deepening  honor 
and  affection  of  friends  and  of  society  at  large,  of  modest 
prosperity,  and  a  wise  and  beautiful  ordering  of  life. 
For  a  few  years  after  their  marriage  they  lived  in 
Orange,  N".  J.  There  was  born  to  them  their  only 
child,  Alice  Stone  Blackwell,  now  a  young  woman 
whose  literary  genius  and  whose  eloquence  as  a  speaker 
is  already  widely  recognized.  Miss  Blackwell  is  a  poet 
and  a  scholar.  She  is  a  graduate  of  Boston  University ; 
is  now  the  editor  of  the  "  Woman's  Journal,"  and  is 
the  most  able  and  effective  and  brilliant  of  the  younger 
women  speakers  in  l^ew  England. 

The  records  of  conventions  and  legislative  movements 
in  which  Lucy  Stone  was  so  important  a  factor  have 
recorded  themselves  in  national  history.  More  than 
thirty  years  ago  Lucy  Stone,  William  Lloyd  Gar- 
rison, Julia  Ward  Howe,  George  William  Curtis, 
Colonel  Higginson,  and  others,  organized  the  American 


THE    CITY   OF   BEAUTIFUL   IDEALS  97 

Woman's  Suffrage  Association.     Its  work  is  well  known 
to  all. 

The  home  of  Lucy  Stone  and  Henry  B.  Blackwell, 
on  the  seashore  in  Dorchester,  a  beautiful  suburb 
of  Boston,  is  a  large  white  house  with  charming  grounds. 
It  faces  the  south,  looking  out  on  the  dreamy  blue 
of  the  Milton  hills,  which  Mrs.  Stone  always  called 
"  my  little  blue  hills."  On  the  east  is  the  sea,  with 
the  picturesque  curve  of  Squantum  thrown  far  out  in 
the  restless  water.  Entering  the  house  there  is  on  the 
right  a  large  drawing-room  with  its  grand  piano,  and 
on  the  left  the  library,  its  centre-table  always  littered 
with  late  books  and  periodicals,  and  its  beautiful 
"  sunset  window,"  where  the  glories  of  the  changeful 
western  sky  gleam  through  the  flowering  shrubs  and 
trees.  Above,  Mrs.  Stone's  own  room  was  that  whose 
eastern  windows  looked  over  the  sea,  and  from 
the  south  took  in  the  entire  range  of  her  "  little  blue 
hills."  With  nothing  for  show  or  mere  luxury  about 
the  house,  it  is  the  ideal  home  of  comfort,  of  peace,  of 
sunny  sweetness.  The  hospitality  was  simple  and  cor- 
dial ;  it  was  especially  extended  to  those  most  in  need 
of  its  comforting.  Over  young  women  alone  in  the  city 
Lucy  Stone's  heart  especially  yearned.  To  them  went 
her  first  invitation  to  her  Thanksgiving  or  her  Christmas 
dinner ;  for  them  her  carriage  was  sent  to  meet  them  at 
the  station.  Not  those  in  whose  society  she  might, 
perhaps,  find  most  of  intellectual  enjoyment,  but  those 
to  whom  her  kindness  and  her  hospitable  home  could 
give  pleasure,  was  her  first  thought.     If  ever  the  life  of 

7 


98  BOSTON   DAYS 


the  true  follower  of  Christ  were  lived,  it  was  lived  by 
Lucy  Stone.  Professing  no  specific  creed,  she  practised 
the  divine  life.  The  church  affiliation  of  the  Blackwells 
was  with  that  of  James  Freeman  Clarke,  now  succeeded 
by  Rev.  Dr.  Ames,  whose  personal  holiness  and  rare 
eloquence  as  a  preacher  make  the  deepest  impression 
on  the  Boston  days  of  the  present. 

Up  to  the  last  months  of  her  life  Mrs.  Stone  knew 
little  abatement  of  its  activities.  Her  blue  eyes  kept 
their  luminous  clearness ;  her  fair  cheek  its  hint  of 
apple  bloom;  her  brown  hair  was  scarcely  silvered 
under  the  delicate  lace  cap  that  rested  lightly  over  it. 
The  wonderful  sweetness  of  her  voice  always  had  an 
irresistible  power.  Her  presence  on  the  platform  was 
magnetic  in  its  serene  and  potent  attraction. 

Lucy  Stone  was  a  remarkable  combination  of  strength, 
sweetness,  serenity,  and  sunshine.  She  had  the  tem- 
perament of  exhilaration.  She  never  lost  her  youth. 
She  was  never  careworn  or  sad  or  depressed,  because 
she  always  looked  beyond.  Her  tenderness  was  as 
inexhaustible  as  her  faith ;  her  sweetness  as  infinite  as 
her  strength.  She  had  a  mind  of  the  most  remarkable 
clearness  and  of  logical  power.  ^'  Lucy  Stone  would 
have  made  a  great  lawyer,"  once  said  Murat  Halstead 
of  her.  She  could  hold  any  argument,  always  with 
invincible  strength  and  firmness,  but  always  with  that 
same  marvellously  serene  sweetness.  She  was  the 
very  embodied  spirit  of  the  morning,  the  Prophetess  of 
the  New  Day. 

And  always  was  there  with  her  that  deep  tenderness 


THE  CITY  OF  BEAUTIFUL   IDEALS  99 

and  solicitude  for  the  comfort  of  others.  "Are  you 
dressed  warmly  enough  ?  "  might  be  her  salutation  on 
a  cold  day.  Never  of  herself,  always  of  others  was  her 
thought.  She  was  royal  by  nature.  Well  might  the 
poet  have  said  of  her :  — 

"  She  doeth  little  kindnesses, 
Which  most  leave  undone,  or  despise. 
For  naught  that  sets  one  heart  at  ease, 
Or  giveth  happiness  or  peace, 
Is  low-esteemed  in  her  eyes." 

Never  did  there  fade  from  her  face  that   trustful, 
happy,  uplifted  look.     It  was  always  — 

"  A  countenance  in  which  did  meet 
Sweet  records,  promises  as  sweet." 

Lucy  Stone  has  left  to  us  the  heritage  of  a  singularly 
noble  character.  The  world  is  the  fairer  that  she  has 
lived  in  it.  There  were  none  of  the  ordinary  associa- 
tions of  death  when  this  radiant  and  prophetic  spirit 
put  on  immortality.  We  thought  of  her  only  as  entering 
into  the  life  more  abundant  and  gaining  the  use  of  still 
greater  powers  than  those  she  so  nobly  exercised  here. 
She  has  left  the  world  better  than  she  found  it.  What 
greater  tribute  can  be  paid  ?  Life  is  made  possible  to  ^ 
all  by  the  greatness  of  the  few.  The  degree  in  which 
this  greatness  is  shown  depends  solely  on  the  spiritual 
quality  of  the  individual,  and  not  in  the  least  degree 
upon  rank  or  circumstances.  The  world's  greatest 
benefactors  have  been  her  prophets  and  her  poets.  It 
is  ideas  and  ideals  that  are  of  value.     It  is  not  posses- 


100  BOSTON   DAYS 


sions,  but  thought,  that  can  relate  its  power  to  the 
needs  of  humanity,  and  the  sublimest  gift  to  man  was 
given  by  One  who  had  not  where  to  lay  his  head. 
And  His  gift  was  for  all  time,  and  is  so  beyond  price 
\^  that  it  is  forever  free  to  the  poorest. 

The  Boston  grouping  at  this  time  is  one  of  historic 
interest.  There  were  the  special  students  and  thinkers, 
—  Alcott,  Emerson,  Margaret  Fuller,  Elizabeth  Peabody, 
Theodore  Parker,  James  Freeman  Clarke,  Dr.  Hedge, 
Mrs.  Caroline  Dall,  who  also  afl&liated  with  every  noble 
effort  in  the  service  of  humanity  and  with  the  literary 
interests  of  the  day  as  well  as  with  their  special 
research  and  study  in  metaphysics  and  philosophy ;  and 
there  was  Dr.  Samuel  Gridley  Howe,  "  the  Cadmus  of 
the  Blind,"  as  Whittier  called  him ;  Dr.  Edward  Everett 
Hale,  then  a  young  clergyman ;  Hawthorne,  held  spell- 
bound under  the  magic  of  romance  ;  Edwin  Percy  Whip- 
ple, the  most  sympathetic  of  friends  and  critics ;  James 
T.  Fields,  who  at  the  head  of  a  liberal  publishing  house 
was  doing  so  much  toward  making  the  best  foreign 
literature  accessible  on  this  side.  Thackeray  came  and 
lectured,  and  was  hospitably  entertained  by  Mr.  Fields 
and  Mr.  Longfellow  ;  Jenny  Lind  charmed  the  city  with 
her  lyric  art ;  Rachel  appeared,  offering  a  new  revelation 
of  dramatic  interpretation,  and  the  great  forces  of  art 
and  thought  were  a  condition  of  radiant  energy.  It  was 
a  most  remarkable  period,  and  one  which  is  almost 
without  parallel  since  the  golden  days  of  Pericles. 


II 

CONCORD,  AND  ITS  FAMOUS  AUTHORS 


For  Joy  and  Beauty  planted  it, 
With  faery  gardens  cheered. 

And  boding  fancy  haunted  it 
With  men  and  women  weird. 

Emerson. 


CONCORD,  AND  ITS  FAMOUS  AUTHORS 


Behind  thee  leaye  thy  merchandise, 

Thy  churches  and  thy  charities  ; 

And  leave  thy  peacock  wit  behind ; 

Enough  for  thee  the  primal  mind 

That  flows  in  streams,  that  breathes  in  wind 

Leave  all  thy  pedant  lore  apart  ; 

God  hid  the  whole  world  in  thy  heart. 

Love  shuns  the  sage,  the  child  it  crowns, 

Gives  all  to  them  who  all  renounce. 

Emerson. 

HE  Concord  idyl  is  the  most  classic  chapter 
in  American  history.  The  New  England 
town  lying  in  its  quiet  beauty  on  a  placid 
river,  amid  pine-clad  hills,  has  become  the  shrine  of 
literary  pilgrimage,  invested  with  a  mystic  atmosphere 
of  poetic  beauty  and  consecration  which  binds  the 
most  casual  comer  to  maintain  the  honor  of  the  place. 
In  the  amber  lights  of  an  autumn  day  it  is  a  golden 
dream,  under  the  embowering  yellow  maples,  shot 
through  with  scarlet  gleams,  under  which  one  saunters 
conscious  of  presences  unseen,  of  voices  that  fall  on  no 
mortal  ear,  of  a  ^'  diviner  Silence  "  in  which  dwell  those 

who 

"  far  beyond  our  vision  and  our  hail 

Axe  heard  forever,  and  are  seen  no  more." 
One  treads  the  winding  way  as  a  via  sacra  and  sees 


104  BOSTON   DAYS 


"  in  every  star's  august  serenity 
And  in  the  rapture  of  tlie  flaming  rose  " 

some  subtle  trace  of  vanished  touch  and  tone.  Ah, 
how  profoundly  does  one  feel  the  truth  of  the  lines: 

"  Empires  dissolve  and  peoples  disappear  ; 

Song  passes  not  away. 
Captains  and  conquerors  leave  a  little  dust, 
And  kings  a  dubious  legend  of  their  reign  ; 
The  swords  of  Caesars,  they  are  less  than  rust ; 

The  poet  doth  remain." 

The  Concord  seer  who  crowned  our  days  "  with  flower 
of  perfect  speech ;  "  the  greatest  of  American  romancists 
who  left  his  "  unfinished  window  in  Aladdin's  tower  ; " 
the  speculative  philosopher  whom  Lowell  compared  to 
the  Phidian  Jove  —  Emerson,  Hawthorne,  and  Alcott 
—  form  an  immortal  trio  inseparably  connected  with 
Concord.  Here  was  the  scene  of  their  life  and  work  in 
their  more  essential  phases  ;  and  here,  on  the  crest  of  the 
hill  overlooking  Sleepy  Hollow,  lie  buried  all  that  was 
mortal  of  those  who  have  left  on  life  and  literature  a 
permanent  impress. 

But  the  group  around  these  three  central  figures 
was  itself  remarkable,  —  Thoreau,  Frank  B.  Sanborn, 
William  Henry  Channing,  whom  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Sanborn 
took  into  their  home  and  cherished  through  life  as  a 
brother ;  Louisa  Alcott,  Samuel  Hoar  ;  and  the  friends 
who  came  and  went  in  the  Emerson,  Hawthorne,  and 
Alcott  households  enjoying  hours  of  the  most  ideal 
social  intercourse  because  it  was  au  intercourse  based 
on  spiritual  gravitation.     Thoreau,  who  graduated  from 


CONCORD,  AND   ITS   FAMOUS   AUTHORS     105 

Harvard  in  1837,  "without  any  literary  distinction," 
as  Emerson  records ;  stoic  and  recluse,  betook  himself 
in  1845  to  the  shores  of  Lake  Walden,  where  for  two 
years  he  lived  the  life  of  solitary  labor  and  study,  ex- 
changing his  hermit's  hut  for  a  brief  residence  in  the 
town  jail,  because  he  refused  to  pay  his  taxes,  from 
which  he  was  released  by  a  friend  who  paid  them  for 
him.  He  was  never  disturbed  by  outward  things, 
which,  he  said,  respect  the  devout  mind,  and  he  claimed 
that  "  a  mental  ecstasy  is  never  interrupted/'  Emerson 
notes  that  the  biography  of  Thoreau  is  found  in  his 
verses,  —  as  in  this  stanza  :  — 

'*  I  hearing  get,  who  had  but  ears, 
And  sight,  who  had  but  eyes  before ; 
I  moments  live,  who  lived  but  years, 
And  truth  discern,  who  knew  but  learning's  lore." 

It  is  Emerson  who  most  truly  recognized  the  inner  life 
of  this  strange  being,  and  who  sums  up  all  Thoreau's 
character  in  the  words :  — 

"  His  soul  was  made  for  the  noblest  society  ;  he  had 
in  a  short  life  exhausted  the  capabilities  of  this  world  ; 
wherever  there  is  knowledge,  wherever  there  is  virtue, 
wherever  there  is  beauty,   he  will  find  a  home." 

The  homes  and  haunts  of  Emerson,  Alcott,  Haw- 
thorne, and  Thoreau  offer  an  objective  point  for  as  classic 
a  pilgrimage  as  can  be  found  in  the  region  of  the  lake 
poets  of  England,  or  to  the  heath  where  the  witches 
appeared  to  Macbeth,  to  that  street  in  Florence  on 
which  stands  Dante's  house,  or  to  Casa  Guidi,  which 


106  BOSTON   DAYS 


was  so  long  the  home  of  the  Brownings.  Emerson 
was  one  of  the  few  greatest  spirits  that  have  ever  come 
into  this  world,  bringing  a  message  of  the  higher  possi- 
bilities of  life ;  and  even  yet  we  stand  too  near  fully  to 
recognize  his  supreme  power  as  a  spiritual  seer. 
Alcott  was  an  exceptional  individuality  in  his  absolute 
nobility  of  thought;  Hawthorne  the  greatest  magician 
in  prose  romance;  Thoreau,  unique,  unworldly,  and 
illustrating  in  his  life  the  wide  distinction  between  the 
things  that  are  significant  and;  insignificant ;  Louisa 
Alcott,  a  woman  whose  greatness  of  character  excelled 
even  her  literary  fame :  and  the  circle  that  these  great 
spirits  drew  about  them  will  forever  remain  an  impres- 
sive one  in  literary  history. 

The  town  of  Concord  is  unparalleled  by  any  other  in 
America.  It  has  the  distinctive  N"ew  England  flavor, 
as  a  matter  of  course ;  but  beyond  this  there  is  more. 
The  stamp  of  high  intelligence  and  refinement  Concord 
shares  with  many  another  town  of  New  England,  and, 
indeed,  of  an  entire  country ;  but  there  is  a  special  recog- 
nition among  its  residents  of  what  one  may  perhaps  not 
inaptly  designate  as  the  consecration  in  the  air, — the 
heritage  left  by  the  high  spirits  that  have  vanished  from 
mortal  eye.  "  After  all,  it  is  the  fine  souls  that  serve 
us,  and  not  what  we  may  call  fine  society,"  truly  said 
Emerson;  and  if  one  falls  inadvertently  into  a  bit  of 
transcendental  dialect  and  refers  to  Concord  as  a  town 
of  "  fine  souls  "  the  reader  will  readily  pardon  him. 

Although  the  most  famous  of  the  townspeople  have 
passed  on  to  the  life  beyond  this,  there  still  remain 


CONCORD,  AND   ITS   FAMOUS   AUTHORS     107 

noted  leaders,  and  a  most  refined  and  cultured  circle  of 
people.  The  name  of  Mr.  Frank  B.  Sanborn,  a  wit, 
poet,  and  scholar  and  distinguished  as  a  social  scientist, 
author,  reformer,  and  philanthropist,  readily  recurs  to 
all  in  connection  with  Concord,  as  does  the  name  of 
that  supremely  gifted  genius,  Daniel  French,  the  artist 
whose  great  work  entitled  "  Death  and  the  Sculptor  " 
was  regarded  as  the  finest  piece  of  sculpture  shown  at 
the  Columbian  Exposition. 

The  beautiful  free  library  of  the  town,  whose  annual 
circulation  averages  over  23,000,  among  a  population 
of  3,000,  attracts  the  visitor,  and  within  he  will  find  the 
portrait  of  Emerson,  painted  by  David  Scott  in  Edin- 
burgh in  1848;  Raphael  Mengs'  copy  of  Titian's 
Columbus ;  Marshall's  copy  of  Stuart's  Washington ; 
a  bust  of  Hawthorne;  French's  busts  of  Emerson, 
Alcott,  and  Miss  Alcott;  Gould's  bust  of  Emerson; 
Schoff  s  engraving,  Rouse's  crayon  portrait  of  Emerson,  — 
the  finest  likeness  of  him  ;  a  bust  of  Plato,  and  Dexter's 
bust  of  Agassiz;  a  landscape  by  Edward  Simmons, 
who  was  a  native  of  Concord  ;  a  bust  of  Horace  Mann, 
and  other  works  of  artistic  interest  and  local  association. 
Loitering  along  the  long  street,  one  passes  the  former 
residence  of  Hon.  Samuel  Hoar,  where  his  son,  Judge 
Hoar,  was  born,  and  who  died  in  Concord  in  1856. 
The  house  is  now  in  possession  of  the  third  generation 
of  the  family.  It  was  the  daughter  of  the  elder  Hoar, 
Elizabeth,  who  was  the  betrothed  of  Emerson's  tenderly 
beloved  brother,  Charles,  who  died  in  1836,  and  of 
whom  Emerson  wrote  to  his  wife :  — 


108  BOSTON   DAYS 


''  A  soul  is  gone,  so  costly  and  so  rare  that  few  persons 
were  capable  of  knowing  its  price.  In  losing  him  I 
have  lost  my  all,  for  he  was  born  an  orator  and  a 
writer." 

The  little  shops  along  the  street  in  Concord  all 
placard  their  windows  with  photographs  and  views 
of  the  local  celebrities  and  noted  places.  Xo  stranger 
could  fail  to  realize  how  all-pervading  is  the  pride  and 
sympathy  of  the  town  in  the  great  spirits  that  have  left 
it  their  heritage  of  fame. 

From  Monument  Square  at  the  east  end  several  roads 
diverge,  —  one  running  past  the  "  Old  Manse  "  to  the 
bridge  and  the  statue  of  the  Minute  Man,  where  was 
fired  "  the  shot  heard  round  the  world ; "  on  another, 
one  comes  to  the  home  of  Emerson  and  goes  on  to  the 
"  Orchard  House,"  where  Alcott  lived,  and  on  whose 
grounds  stands  the  little  hillside  chapel  where  the 
'^School  of  Philosophy  "  was  held  from  1878  to  1886. 

The  approach  to  the  "  Old  Manse "  is  through  a 
sombre  avenue  which  was  originally  of  the  black  ash- 
trees,  but  these  dying,  it  has  mostly  been  filled  in  with 
maples.  Two  high  posts  of  granite  frown  upon  the 
outer  entrance.  On  the  hill  which  rises  between  the 
"  Old  Manse  "  and  the  village,  is  a  single  poplar-tree  out- 
lined against  the  sky.  The  Manse  was  built  in  1765  for 
Rev.  William  Emerson,  the  grandfather  of  Ralph  Waldo. 
He  married  Phoebe  Bliss.  His  early  death  left  her  a 
widow  at  the  age  of  thirty-nine,  with  a  group  of  little 
children,  and  she  soon  became  the  wife  of  Dr.  Ezra 
Ripley,  a  man  nine  years  her  junior,  who   succeeded 


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CONCORD,  AND   ITS   FAMOUS   AUTHORS     109 

Mr.  Emerson  as  minister  of  the  parish.  Dr.  Riplej,  who 
was  a  character  in  his  day,  planted  the  orchard  that  still 
stands  sloping  down  to  the  river.  He  often  discovered 
large  providences  in  small  events.  Purchasing  a 
"  shay,"  he  recorded  the  fact  in  his  diary,  and  added  : 
"  The  Lord  grant  it  may  be  a  comfort  and  blessing  to 
my  family."  On  their  all  being  overturned  in  it,  he 
records :  '^  I  desire  that  the  Lord  would  teach  me  suit- 
ably to  repent  this  Providence,  to  make  suitable  re- 
marks on  it,  and  to  be  suitably  affected  by  it."  His 
long  prayer  usually  included  meteorological  appeals, 
and  he  especially  petitioned  against  lightning,  that  it 
might  not  "  lick  up  our  spirits."  He  was  a  just  and 
good  man,  officially  severe,  as  became  the  times,  and 
most  tenderly  sympathetic  in  his  own  nature.  The 
"  Old  Manse  "has  sheltered,  at  one  time  and  another, 
nearly  all  the  noted  divines  of  New  England ;  and  the 
chamber  where  they  slept  is  still  known  as  the  "  saints' 
rest."  Its  walls  are  covered  with  inscriptions.  The 
study  is  kept  just  as  it  was  one  hundred  years  ago,  and 
it  is  said  that  still  at  the  dead  of  night  unseen  hands 
lift  the  latch  and  currents  of  cold  air  rush  in. 

Emerson  was  the  enchanter  whose  magic,  like  that  of 
Merlin,  cast  its  spell  on  the  atmosphere.  "He  was 
surrounded  by  men  who  ran  to  extremes  in  their  idio- 
syncrasies," said  Dr.  Holmes :  "  Alcott  in  speculations 
which  often  led  him  into  the  fourth  dimension  of  men- 
tal space;  Hawthorne,  who  brooded  himself  into  a 
dream-peopled  solitude ;  Thoreau,  the  nullifier  of  civili- 
zation, who  insisted  on  nibbling  his  asparagus  at  the 


no  BOSTON   DAYS 


wroDg  end,  to  say  nothing  of  idolaters  and  echoes.  He 
kept  his  balance  among  all." 

Ralph  Waldo  Emerson  was  born  in  Boston,  on  Sum- 
mer Street,  now  in  the  heart  of  business  thoroughfares, 
on  May  26,  1803,  and  any  reference  to  him  cannot  but 
invite  meditation  on  the  spiritual  seer  and  the  poet 
whose  influence  only  deepens  and  increases  as  the  years 
go  by  and  as  humanity  progresses  to  higher  planes. 
The  appreciation  of  Emerson  is  not  limited  to  any  cult : 
he  is  more  universal  even  than  Goethe ;  and  while  he  is 
the  delight  of  the  scholar  and  of  the  saint,  he  is  no  less 
the  delight,  the  inspirer,  of  the  enthusiasm  of  youth,  of 
the  man  of  culture  and  gifts,  or  of  those  whose  life  is 
largely  given  to  toil,  or  hampered  by  trial  or  privation. 
Indeed,  it  is  to  these  that  he  is  all-essential.  For  it  is 
Emerson  who  is  supremely,  out  of  all  the  entire  world 
of  authors,  "the  friend  and  aider  of  all  who  would 
live  in  the  spirit."  Emerson  is  a  poet  for  poets ;  he  is 
the  seer,  the  diviner,  the  prophet;  he  is  the  most  re- 
markable spiritual  teacher  of  this  century.  There  could 
hardly  be  to-day  any  subject  so  profitable  to  engage  the 
general  attention  as  that  of  his  life,  his  influence,  and 
the  illumination  on  the  problems  of  existence  which  he 
has  contributed  to  the  world. 

In  1634  the  Rev.  Peter  Bulkeley,  rector  of  Wood- 
hill  and  Fellow  of  St.  John's  College,  Cambridge,  came 
to  this  country  from  England,  and  was  one  of  the 
founders  of  the  present  town  of  Concord,  Mass.  His 
granddaughter,  Elizabeth  Bulkeley,  married  Rev.  Joseph 
Emerson.     Their   son    married   Rebecca    Waldo,   and 


CONCORD,  AND   ITS   FAMOUS   AUTHORS     111 

they  had  a  son,  Joseph,  who  also  became  a  mmister 
and  who  married  Phoebe  Bliss.  Rev.  Joseph  Emerson 
was  pastor  of  the  Unitarian  Church  in  Concord,  and  he 
lived  in  the  "  Old  Manse."  The  famous  Mary  Moody 
Emerson  —  the  aunt  to  whom  Ralph  Waldo  Emerson 
owed  so  much  —  was  a  daughter  of  Rev.  Joseph  and 
Phoebe  (Bliss)  Emerson,  and  among  their  other  children 
was  William,  who  became  a  minister  and  married  Ruth 
Haskins.  The  Rev.  William  and  Ruth  (Haskins) 
Emerson  were  the  parents  of  Ralph  Waldo  Emerson. 
His  grandfather.  Rev.  Joseph  Emerson,  died  at  the 
age  of  thirty- three.  He  was  the  man  who  used  to 
pray  every  night  that  none  of  his  descendants  might 
ever  be  rich.  He  was  a  classical  scholar,  a  devoted 
lover  of  the  Iliad,  and  he  ruined  his  health  by  his  devo- 
tion to  study.  After  his  death  Mrs.  Emerson  became 
the  wife  of  Dr.  Ezra  Ripley,  —  her  husband's  successor 
as  pastor  of  the  church,  who  was  nine  years  her 
junior. 

Rev.  William  Emerson  recorded  in  his  diary  that  in 
June  of  1796  he  ^'  rode  out  with  the  pious  and  amiable 
Ruth  Haskins,  and  conversed  with  her  on  the  subject 
of  matrimony,"  —  apparently  to  good  purpose,  as  they 
were  married  in  the  following  October. 

After  this  marriage  he  records  in  his  diary  :  — 

' '  We  are  poor  and  cold,  and  have  little  meal  and  little 
wood,  but,  thank  God,  courage  enough.  In  1799  he  was 
invited  to  be  the  pastor  of  the  First  Church  in  Boston,  and 
the  emoluments  of  his  pastorate  were  fixed  at  $14  a  week  ; 
also  the  parish  dwelling-house  and  twenty  cords  of  wood." 


112  BOSTON   DAYS 


He  died  at  the  age  of  fortj-two,  in  May,  1811,  leav- 
ing his  young  wife  with  six  children,  of  whom  Ralph 
Waldo,  born  in  May,  1803,  was  the  third,  and  all  were 
under  ten  years  of  age. 

The  ^^  pious  and  amiable  Ruth,"  left  a  widow  with 
her  family  of  children,  was  constantly  assisted  and 
invigorated  by  the  care  and  help  of  Mary  Moody 
Emerson,  the  sister  of  her  husband,  who  took  a  lively 
interest  in  the  little  flock.  "  Educated,  "  she  exclaimed ; 
"  they  were  born  to  be  educated !  "  There  was  a  new 
family  of  the  little  Ripleys,  and  Mary  Moody  had  been 
taken  by  her  grandmother  in  Maiden.  Here  she  had 
grown  up  and  lived,  and  only  occasionally  saw  her 
mother  and  her  little  half-brothers  and  sisters,  who  lived 
on  in  the  ^'Old  Manse"  at  Concord. 

She  was  the  most  unique  character  of  her  time,  and 
the  curious  story  of  her  life  must  always  stand  out  as 
a  marked  chapter  in  New  England  biography.  In  a 
letter  written  by  Ralph  Waldo  Emerson  in  his  early 
life,  referring  to  his  aunt,  he  says :  — 

"Give  my  love  to  her,  —  love  and  honor.  She  must 
always  occupy  a  saint's  place  in  my  household;  and  I 
have  no  hours  of  poetry  and  philosophy  since  I  knew 
these  things,  into  which  she  does  not  enter  as  a  genius.'' 

Mary  Moody  Emerson  was  born  in  Concord  in  1774, 
and  died  (in  1863)  on  Long  Island.  She  was  born 
just  before  the  opening  of  the  Revolution.  Her  father 
was  the  minister  of  Concord,  and  as  a  chaplain  went  to 
Ticonderoga  where  he  died.     His  wife  married  again, 


CONCORD,  AND   ITS   FAMOUS   AUTHORS     113 

aud  Mary  was  reared  by  her  grandmother  in  Maiden, 
Mass.  The  second  husband  of  Mrs.  Emerson  was 
Dr.  Ezra  Ripley,  as  before  noted,  and  a  new  family 
of  children  sprang  up.  In  the  old  farmhouse  at 
Maiden,  Mary  Moody  Emerson  lived  a  varied  and 
curious  life.  '^  What  a  subject  is  her  life  and  mind  for 
the  finest  novel ! "  her  illustrious  nephew  has  said  of  her. 
From  her  journal,  under  date  of  November,  1805,  we 
learn  that  she  "  rose  before  light ;  visited  from  necessity 
once,  and  once  for  books ;  read  Butler's  ^  Analogy/ 
Cicero's  '  Letters,'  —  a  few ;  washed,  carded,  cleaned 
house,  and  baked."  "  There  is  a  sweet  pleasure,"  she 
says,  "in  bending  to  circumstances  while  superior  to 
them." 

Emerson,  writing  of  her,  said  :  — 

"Her  early  reading  was  Milton,  Young,  Akenside, 
Samuel  Clarke,  Jonathan  Edwards,  and  always  the 
Bible.  Later,  Plato,  Plotinus,  Marcus  Antoninus, 
Stewart,  Coleridge,  Cousin.  Herder,  Locke,  Madame  de 
Stael,  Channing,  Mackintosh,  Byron.  Nobody  can  read 
in  her  manuscript,  or  recall  the  conversation  of  old-school 
people,  without  seeing  that  Milton  and  Young  had  a 
religious  authority  in  their  mind,  and  nowise  the  slight, 
merely  entertaining  quality  of  modern  bards.  And 
Plato,  Aristotle,  Plotinus,  —  how  venerable  and  organic 
as  Nature  they  are  in  her  mind!  What  a  subject  is  her 
mind  and  life  for  the  finest  novel !  When  I  read  Dante, 
the  other  day,  and  his  paraphrases  to  signify  with  more 
adequateness  Christ  or  Jehovah,  whom  do  you  think  I 
was  reminded  of?  Whom  but  Mary  Emerson  and  her 
eloquent    theology?     She   had    a  deep    sympathy   with 

8 


114  BOSTON   DAYS 


genius.  When  it  was  unhallowed,  as  in  Byron,  she  had 
none  the  less,  whilst  she  deplored  and  affected  to  de- 
nounce him.  But  she  adored  it  when  ennobled  by  char- 
acter. She  liked  to  notice  that  the  greatest  geniuses 
have  died  ignorant  of  their  power  and  influence.  She 
wished  you  to  scorn  to  shine. 

'^  For  years  she  had  her  bed  made  in  the  form  of  a 
coflSn,  and  delighted  herself  with  the  discovery  of  the 
figure  of  a  coffin  made  every  evening  on  their  sidewalk 
by  the  shadow  of  a  church  tower  which  adjoined  the  house. 

"  Saladin  caused  his  shroud  to  be  made,  and  carried  it 
to  battle  as  his  standard.  She  made  up  her  shroud, 
and  death  still  refusing  to  come,  and  she  thinking  it  a 
pity  to  let  it  lie  idle,  wore  it  as  a  night-gown,  or  a  day- 
gown,  nay,  went  out  to  ride  in  it,  on  horseback,  in  her 
mountain  roads,  until  it  was  worn  out.  Then  she  had 
another  made  up,  and  as  she  never  travelled  without 
being  provided  for  this  dear  and  indispensable  contin- 
gency, I  believe  she  wore  out  a  great  many." 

A  more  extraordinary  character  was  never  known  than 
Mary  Moody  Emerson.  Yet  she  had  the  quality  of 
greatness,  —  vast  mental  capacity  and  resources,  spir- 
itual fervor,  perpetual  aspiration.  With  these  went  the 
constant  conflict  with  circumstances,  the  constant  and 
triumphant  assertion  also  of  the  potency  of  spirit  over 
the  temporary  vexations  of  the  material  world. 

On  the  low  stone  that  marks  her  grave  in  the  Emer- 
son lot  in  Sleepy  Hollow  are  the  lines  :  — 

"  She  gave  high  counsels.  It  was  the  privilege  of  cer- 
tain boys  to  have  this  unmeasurably  high  standard  indi- 
cated to  their  childhood,  a  blessing  which  nothing  else  in 
education  could  supply." 


CONCORD,  AND   ITS   FAMOUS   AUTHORS     115 

This  eccentric  aunt  of  Emerson's  was,  nevertheless, 
one  of  the  strongest  formative  influences  in  his  life. 

The  three  brothers,  Edward,  Charles,  and  Ralph 
Waldo,  went  to  the  Latin  School  and  later  to  Har- 
vard. At  the  time  Emerson  entered  Harvard  (1817) 
George  Ticknor  was  professor  of  modern  languages 
and  Edward  Everett  of  Greek.  The  president  was 
Dr.  Kirkland.  Emerson  was  chosen  poet  for  Class 
Day,  but  while  his  standing  as  a  student  was  fair, 
it  was  in  no  wise  distinguished.  Josiah  Quincy, 
his  classmate,  has  said  of  him  that  he  "  gave  no 
sign  of  the  power  that  was  fashioning  itself  for 
leadership  in  a  new  time."  Later  he  taught  school, 
went  to  Europe  for  a  year,  entered  the  ministry,  and 
finally  resigned  his  charge,  as  he  could  not  conscien- 
tiously administer  the  Lord's  Supper.  In  September  of 
1829  he  married  Ellen  Louise  Tucker,  who  only  lived 
three  years.  In  1835  he  married  Miss  Lydia  Jackson, 
of  Plymouth,  and  on  her  marriage  induced  her  to  write 
her  name  Lidian,  as  more  euphonious  with  Emerson. 
Miss  Jackson  was,  at  the  time  of  her  marriage  to  the 
poet,  a  woman  thirty-three  years  of  age,  keenly  intelli- 
gent and  cultivated,  and  with  exceeding  sweetness  of 
nature.  She  owned  her  residence  —  the  ^'  old  Winslow 
house,"  as  it  was  caUed  —  and  proposed  that  they  should 
make  that  their  home,  but  Emerson  was  charmed  by 
Concord.     Before  their  marriage  he  wrote  her,  saying : 

"  I  must  win  you  to  love  Concord.  I  am  born  a  poet,  — 
of  a  low  class  without  doubt,  yet  a  poet.  That  is  my 
nature   and  vocation.     My   singing,  to  be  sure,  is  very 


116  BOSTON   DAYS 


husky,  and  for  the  most  part  in  prose.  Still  I  am  a  poet 
in  the  sense  of  a  perceiver  and  dear  lover  of  the  harmo- 
nies that  are  in  soul  and  in  matter,  and  especially  of  the 
correspondences  between  these  and  those.  A  sunset,  a 
forest,  a  snow-storm,  a  certain  river-view,  are  more  to  me 
than  many  friends,  and  do  ordinarily  divide  my  clay  with 
my  books.  Wherever  I  go,  therefore,  I  guard  and  study 
my  rambling  propensities.  Now  Concord  is  only  one  of 
a  hundred  towns  in  which  I  could  find  these  necessary 
objects,  but  Plymouth,  I  fear,  is  not  one.  Plymouth  is 
streets." 

It  would  have  seemed  as  if  the  sea  and  Plymouth 
woods  might  have  appealed  more  to  Emerson's  poetic 
sense  than  an  inland  village  like  Concord,  quietly  pic- 
turesque as  it  is ;  but  they  did  not.  He  loved  this  quiet 
town  and  he  bought  a  home  on  the  Lexington  road 
known  as  the  ^^  Coolidge  house,"  where  in  September 
of  1835  the  wedded  couple  set  up  their  household  gods. 
They  had  four  children,  —  Waldo,  Ellen,  Edward,  and 
Edith.  Waldo  died  in  childhood,  and  it  is  for  him  that 
Emerson's  poem,  "  Threnody,"  was  written.  Edward 
Emerson  studied  medicine,  but  of  late  years  devotes 
himself  to  art.  Edith  married  a  wealthy  and  prominent 
man,  Mr.  Forbes,  of  Milton,  Mass.,  and  one  of  her 
children,  a  daughter,  has  a  talent  for  sculpture  and  has 
studied  under  Mr.  William  Ordway  Partridge.  Miss 
Ellen  Emerson  has  never  married,  and  she  occupies 
their  home  in  Concord,  and  is  the  idolized  figure  in  the 
entire  village. 

On  the  death  of  his  brother  Charles,  Emerson  wrote 
to  his  wife :  — 


CONCORD,  AND    ITS    FAMOUS   AUTHORS     117 

"  And  so,  Lidiaiij  I  can  never  bring  you  back  my  noble 
friend,  who  was  my  ornament,  my  wisdom,  and  my  pride. 
A  soul  is  gone  so  costly  and  so  rare  that  few  persons  were 
capable  of  knowing  its  price,  and  I  shall  have  mysorrow 
to  myself,  for  if  I  speak  of  him  I  shall  be  thought  a  fond 
exaggerator.  He  had  the  four-fold  perfection  of  good 
sense,  of  genius,  of  grace,  and  a  virtue  as  I  have  never 
seen  them  combined.  .  .  .  And  you  must  be  content 
henceforth  with  only  a  piece  of  your  husband,  for  the  best 
of  his  strength  lay  in  the  soul  with  which  he  must  no  more 
on  earth  take  counsel." 

To  Margaret  Fuller  he  wrote  of  Alcott,  saying :  — 

"  He  has  more  of  the  godlike  than  any  man  I  have  ever 
seen,  and  his  presence  rebukes  and  threatens  and  raises. 
I  shall  dismiss  for  the  future  all  anxiety  about  his  success. 
If  he  cannot  make  intelligent  men  feel  the  presence  of  a 
superior  nature,  the  worse  for  them.  I  can  never  doubt 
him.  His  ideal  is  belield  with  such  unrivalled  distinctness 
that  he  is  not  only  justified,  but  necessitation  to  condemn 
and  to  seek  to  approve  the  vast  actual  and  cleanse  the 
world.  .  .  .  The  most  extraordinary  man  and  the  highest 
genius  of  his  time.  He  ought  to  go  publishing  through 
the  land  his  gospel,  like  them  of  old  time.  Wonderful  is 
the  steadiness  of  his  \dsion.  ...  It  were  too  much  to  say 
that  the  Platonic  world  I  might  have  learned  to  treat  as 
cloudland  had  I  not  known  Alcott,  who  is  a  native  of  that 
country.  Yet  I  will  say  that  he  makes  it  as  solid  as 
Massachusetts  to  me." 

Under  date  of  August,  1836,  Emerson  writes  to  one 
of  his  brothers  :  — 

'^Mr.  Alcott  has  spent  a  day  here  lately,  — the  character- 
builder.     An  accomplished  lady  is  staying  with  Lidian,  — 


118  BOSTON   DAYS 


Miss  Margaret  Fuller.  She  is  quite  an  extraordinary  per- 
son for  her  apprehensiveness,  her  acquisitions,  and  her 
power  of  conversation." 

From  the  first  Mr.  Alcott  made  an  impression  on 
Emerson  that  only  deepened  with  time.  Alcott  was 
four  years  his  senior.  "  That  godlike  man/'  Emerson 
called  him  from  the  first,  and  "the  highest  genius  of 
his  time."  He  asserts  that  Mr.  Alcott  *^  makes  the 
Platonic  world  as  solid  as  Massachusetts  to  me." 

Of  Emerson's  habits  in  his  early  married  life,  James 
Eliot  Cabot  writes  :  — 

"  The  morning  was  his  time  for  work,  and  he  guarded  it 
from  all  disturbances.  He  rose  early  and  went  to  his 
study,  where  he  remained  until  1  o'clock,  when,  partaking 
of  the  mid-day  dinner,  he  went  to  walk.  In  the  evening 
he  was  with  his  family,  and  he  never  worked  late,  think- 
ing sleep  to  be  a  prime  necessitj^" 

The  record  of  Mr.  Emerson's  life  is  almost  exclusively 
that  of  a  spiritual  biography.  Not  that  he  failed  of 
being  in  real  relations  with  humanity ;  he  was  pre- 
eminently in  these  right  relations,  and  his  life  as  a  son, 
brother,  husband,  father,  friend,  neighbor,  and  citizen 
rang  true  at  every  touch.  He  was  faithful,  tender, 
noble,  and  loyal.  But  it  was  the  soul's  journey  through 
the  universe  that  interested  him,  and  he  read  the  eter- 
nities and  not  the  times.  Like  Emily  Dickinson  he 
could  have  declared,  — 

"  The  only  news  I  know 
Is  bulletins  all  day 
From  ImmortaUty." 


CONCORD,  AND   ITS   FAMOUS   AUTHORS     119 

His  lofty  spirituality  was  conjoined,  however,  with 
what  the  world  agrees  in  calling  the  practical  quali- 
ties. It  is  true  that  nothing  is  so  "  practical "  as 
spirituality  of  life,  for  when  it  does  not  give  greater 
tenderness,  greater  thought,  greater  consideration  for 
family,  friends,  and  humanity  in  general,  it  is  not  the 
highest  spirituality  at  all.  In  the  true  sense  of  the 
term  practical,  no  one  was  ever  more  so  than  Jesus, 
the  Christ.  To  comfort  the  sorrowing,  to  heal  the  sick, 
to  inspire  all  into  the  radiant  hopes  of  the  higher  life 
and  the  infinite  achievement  possible  to  the  soul,  — 
is  a  very  practical  work. 

Mr.  Emerson  made  in  all  three  journeys  to  Europe,  — 
one  in  his  early  life  and  two  in  later  years.  By  means 
of  these  his  circle  of  friends  was  still  further  enlarged,  and 
the  friendship  and  correspondence  between  himself  and 
Carlyle  is  well  known.  Prof.  Charles  Eliot  Norton,  of 
Harvard,  edited  the  two  large  volumes  of  the  correspond- 
ence of  Carlyle  and  Emerson,  as  will  be  remembered,  — 
a  work  which  is  one  of  the  monumental  contributions 
to  the  literature  of  this  century,  and  which  Matthew 
Arnold  characterized  as  "  the  best  memorial  of  Carlyle 
which  exists." 

From  his  early  life  up  to  about  1878  Emerson  lectured 
largely  in  New  England,  but  somewhat  widely,  too, 
in  the  West.  It  could  hardly  be  said  that  he  was 
a  popular  lecturer  in  the  sense  in  which  it  was  said  of 
AVendell  Phillips,  Henry  Ward  Beecher,  and  Anna 
Dickinson,  but  he  was  the  most  winning  personality  of 
them  all ;   and   if  his   lectures  appealed   only  to   the 


120  BOSTON   DAYS 


higher  order  of  responsive  thought,  that  order  was  by 
no  means  lacking,  whether  in  a  country  town  in  the 
West,  or  in  the  New  England  metropolis.  The  Eastern 
people  who  are  not  familiar  with  the  West  or  the  South 
do  not  realize  the  intense  intellectual  vitality  of  the 
country  and  the  country  towns,  —  the  noble  and  beau- 
tiful aspirations  of  the  young  people.  They  consti- 
tute a  public  which  those  familiar  with  it  appreciate 
truly. 

Mr.  Emerson  had  a  certain  fine  and  persistent  instinct 
of  fitness,  if  one  may  call  it  so,  that  would  never  have 
allowed  him  to  be  in  debt,  —  to  be  in  any  undignified 
position.  Poverty  and  privation  companioned  his  early 
life,  but  it  was  always  the  poverty  that  is  borne  with 
dignity  and  that  had  the  solace  of  high  thought.  One 
may  accept  the  deprivation  of  fashionable  society  if  he 
have  the  company  of  the  gods. 

In  the  town  of  Concord  Emerson  was  the  most  be- 
loved citizen.  He  was  always  a  working  factor  in 
town  meetings  and  organizations,  actively  interested  in 
the  schools,  the  local  government,  the  social  and  moral 
progresso  He  was  never  a  recluse  in  the  sense  of  being 
indifferent  to  whatever  made  for  the  welfare  of  the 
people.  He  loved  his  friends  and  neighbors,  and  was 
beloved,  —  adored,  indeed,  by  them. 

And  a  goodly  company,  indeed,  they  were.  Hon. 
Samuel  Hoar  was  a  noble  man,  whose  life  and  influence 
contributed  measurably  to  elevate  the  standard  of 
living.  He  was  born  in  Lincoln  (near  Concord)  in 
May,  1778,  and  died  in  Concord,  Nov.  2,  1856.     He  is 


CONCORD,   AND   ITS   FAMOUS   AUTHORS     121 

buried  in  Sleepy  Hollow  Cemetery,  and  on  his  tomb  is 
a  design  of  a  window  with  the  words  :  — 

"  The  pilgrim  they  laid  in  a  chamber 
Whose  window  opened  toward  the  sunrising. 
The  name  of  the  chamber  was  Peace  ; 
There  he  lay  till  break  of  day  and  then  he  arose  and  sang." 

Besides  this  quotation  from  the  "  Pilgrim's  Progress  " 
there  is  a  long  inscription,  of  which  some  lines  are : 

*'He-was  long  one  of  the  most  eminent  lawyers  and 
best  beloved  citizens  of  Massachusetts,  —  a  safe  coun- 
sellor, a  kind  neighbor,  a  Christian  gentleman.  He  had 
a  dignity  that  commanded  the  respect  and  a  sweetness  and 
modesty  that  won  the  affection  of  all  men.  He  practised 
an  economy  that  never  wasted,  and  a  liberality  that  never 
spared.  Of  capacity  for  the  highest  offices,  he  never 
avoided  obscure  duties.  He  never  sought  station  of 
fame  or  emolument,  and  never  shrank  from  positions  of 
danger  or  obloquy.  His  days  were  made  happy  by  public 
esteem  and  private  affection,  .  .  .  and  he  met  death 
with  the  perfect  assurance  of  immortal  life." 

Elizabeth  Hoar,  his  daughter,  the  betrothed  of  Charles 
Emerson,  was  always  regarded  by  Emerson  as  a  sister, 
and  his  mother,  Madame  Emerson  (the  '^  pious  and 
amiable  "  Ruth  Haskins),  who  lived  in  his  family,  and 
died  in  the  fifties,  always  looked  upon  Miss  Hoar  as  a 
daughter.  Elizabeth  Hoar  died  in  1878,  having  lived 
to  be  sixty-three  years  of  age.  Samuel  Hoar  married  a 
daughter  of  Roger  Sherman.  Judge  E.  R.  Hoar,  whose 
death  occurred  a  decade  ago,  was  their  son,  as  is 
also   the   present    Senator  Hoar.     Besides   the   Hoar 


122  BOSTON   DAYS 


family,  the  Emersous,  the  Hawthornes,  the  Alcotts, 
Thoreau,  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Frank  B.  Sanborn  made  up 
a  remarkable  drcle.  Such  a  group  of  residents  of  course 
drew  visitors  of  note,  and  thus  for  nearly  half  a  century 
Concord  has  been  the  scene  of  literary  pilgrimage. 
Margaret  Fuller  frequently  visited  at  the  Emersons. 
Elizabeth  Peabody  was  a  familiar  guest,  as  were  the 
Whipples,  Mrs.  Howe,  James  Freeman  Clarke,  and  Dr. 
Hedge. 

In  those  days  now  forever  vanished  from  all  save 
memory,  Emerson,  Alcott,  Dr.  Hedge,  and  Dr.  Bartol 
formed  a  club  of  their  own,  —  an  alliance  defensive, 
though  not  offensive,  and  exclusive  of  all  other  varieties 
of  meetings  or  gatherings.  They  met  at  stated  times 
for  one  hour,  and  when  that  was  told  the  four 
philosophers  went  each  his  own  way.  That  they  might 
escape  the  interruptions  of  a  rude  and  unfeeling  world, 
whose  noise  and  bustle  would  jar  upon  the  lofty  medi- 
tations of  the  transcendental  mind,  they  met  in  Miss 
Bartol's  studio,  which  had  been  evolved  from  a  former 
stable,  in  the  rear  of  her  father's  old'  Boston  house,  on 
Chestnut  Street.  Here,  however  often  the  doorbell  of 
the  house  of  Bartol  might  ring,  it  could  not  disturb  the 
serenity  of  the  great  men.  Of  this  quartet  two  are  so 
well  known  as  to  require  no  comment.  The  names  of 
Emerson  and  Alcott  are  as  immortally  linked  as  those 
of  Goethe  and  Schiller.  Dr.  Hedge  was  the  con- 
temporary and  warm  friend  of  James  Freeman  Clarke 
and  of  Margaret  Fuller.  He  lived  on  into  a  great 
age,   dying   during  this   last   decade,   at    the    age   of 


CONCORD,  AND   ITS    FAMOUS   AUTHORS     123 

over  fourscore.  His  house  was  in  Cambridge  and  his 
specialty  was  German  metaphysics.  It  was  in  his  early 
youth  that  the  craze  of  German  enthusiasm  swept  over 
Boston,  and  found  its  most  devoted  disciples  in  Mr. 
Hedge,  Mr.  Clarke,  Margaret  Fuller,  and  Elizabeth 
Peabody.  At  that  time  Miss  Peabody  opened  a  book 
store  in  the  front  room  of  her  father's  house  on  West 
Street,  for  foreign  books  and  periodicals,  as  they  were 
unable  otherwise  to  procure  their  German  lore.  This 
shop  became  a  sort  of  library  clubroom,  and  it  was 
here,  as  noted,  that  James  Freeman  Clarke  first  dis- 
cussed his  idea  of  founding  the  church  to  which  he  gave 
the  name  of  the  Church  of  the  Disciples.  Dr.  Hedge 
graduated  at  Harvard  and  fared  forth  to  visit  Goethe, 
on  his  subsequent  tour  to  Europe,  with  letters  of  in- 
troduction to  the  great  poet  as  before  noted,  and  he  re- 
turned to  still  further  fan  the  flame  of  enthusiasm  for 
Goethe's  language  and  literature.  He  became  eminent 
as  a  translator,  as  well  as  a  philosophical  essayist ;  and 
it  is  traditionally  told  that  his  intellectual  force  so  im- 
pressed its  superiority  on  the  Harvard  undergraduates 
of  the  day  that  he  was  appreciatively  (if  irreverently) 
known  to  them  as  "Old  Brains." 

Dr.  Holmes  knew  Emerson  well,  and  despite  the 
"  official "  authority  of  Mr.  James  Eliot  Cabot's  life  of 
Emerson,  the  biography  written  by  Dr.  Holmes  has 
infinitely  more  vitality,  color,  and  power  of  communi- 
cating the  essential  personality  of  Emerson.  In  a  letter 
(dated  Oct.  9, 1894)  to  Miss  Ellen  Emerson,  Dr.  Holmes 
writes :  — 


124  BOSTON   DAYS 


'^  .  .  In  a  generation  or  two  your  father  will  be  an 
ideal,  tending  to  become  as  mystical  as  Buddha,  but  for 
these  hum,an  circumstances  which  show  that  he  was  a 
man.  ...  It  will  delight  so  many  people  to  know  these 
lesser  circumstances  of  a  great  life  that  I  can  hardly  bear 
to  lose  sight  of  any  of  them." 

This  reveals  the  more  sympathetic  and  related  spirit 
in  which  Dr.  Holmes  wrote  the  biography  of  Emerson. 
The  life  of  Mr.  Cabot  has  the  essential  claims,  too,  but, 
at  all  events,  no  lover  of  Emerson  can  afford  to  miss  the 
racy,  keen-sighted,  vital,  and  charming  interpretation 
given  by  Dr.  Holmes. 

Emerson's  personality  radiated  strength  and  courage. 
Margaret  Fuller  thus  expressed  her  recognition  of 
him :  — 

*' When  I  look  forward  to  eternal  growth  I  am  always 
aware  that  I  am  far  larger  and  deeper  for  him.  His 
influence  has  been  to  me  that  of  lofty  assurance  and  sweet 
serenity.  I  present  to  him  the  many  forms  of  nature  and 
solicit  them  with  music ;  he  melts  them  all  into  spirit  and 
reproves  performance  with  prayer." 

To  Mr.  Whipple,  who  was  at  one  time  preparing  an 
article  on  Emerson  for  an  encyclopaedia,  he  wrote  :  — 

Concord,  April  22,  1859. 
Dear  Whipple,  —  I  have  with  too  much  pains  notched 
out  my  calendar  of  two  little  events,  but  as  I  had  begun  to 
fix  the  year  of  each  work,  thought  I  would  wade  through. 
What  is  curious  I  have  omitted ;  namely,  that  by  paternal 
or  maternal  lines  I  am  the  eighth  consecutive  clergyman. 
Otherwise,  for  eight  generations  we  are  a  consecutive  line 


CONCORD,  AND   ITS   FAMOUS   AUTHORS     125 

of  clergymen  on  one  or  the  other  side,  reaching  back  to 
Peter  Bulkley,  the  founder  of  Concord,  who  is  my  ances- 
tor. Was  it  not  time  I  should  vote  for  the  necessity  of 
change?  The  rest  of  all  this  detail  is  for  your  article, 
but  I  thought  you  should  have  it  in  manuscript  for  public 
reference.  Make  the  shortest  article,  for  I  grudge  you 
here  to  the  cyclopedia,  which  I  have  not  looked  into,  but 
believe  is  to  have  nothing  good  but  what  you  and  Lowell 
have  put  into  it.  I  gave  you  already  the  ground  of  my 
life.  Yours  ever, 

Ralph  Waldo  Emerson. 

About  this  time  Mr.  Emerson  wrote  again  to  Mr. 

Whipple :  — 

CoNCOED,  April  18. 

Dear  Whipple,  —  I  am  too  well  pleased  to  know  that 
I  have  fallen  into  your  good  hands,  and  I  took  up  my  pen 
on  Saturday  to  tell  you  so  when  I  was  called  away  per- 
emptorily. I  did  not  return  home  in  time  for  the  mail. 
In  ten  or  twelve  days  I  will  attend  to  the  matter  of  dates, 
and  will  make  out  a  list  of  such  as  I  may  think  you  may 
want  with  all  the  gravity  which  the  occupation  demands. 
Ever  yours, 

Ralph  Waldo  Emerson. 

Emerson  as  a  poet  is  less  known  than  as  an  essayist. 
But  to  those  who  revel  in  the  latter  an  ever  deeper  joy 
is  found  in  his  poetry.  The  profoundest  spiritual  mean- 
ing pervades  his  poems  as  the  fragrance  pervades  the 
rose.     Take  these  lines  :  — 

'•  Draw  the  breath  of  Eternity. 
Serve  thou  it  not  for  daily  bread,  — 
Serve  it  for  pain  and  fear  and  need. 


126  BOSTON   DAYS 


Love  it,  though  it  hide  its  light ; 
By  love  behold  the  sun  at  night. 
If  the  law  shall  thee  forget, 
More  enamoured,  serve  it  yet. 
Though  it  hate  thee,  suffer  long, 
Put  the  Spirit  in  the  wrong." 

It  were  an  impertinence  to  attempt  to  explain  a 
poet's  meaning ;  but  were  ever  lines  more  impressive 
in  their  counsel  to  serve  the  highest  right  —  not  for 
reward,  nor  bread,  but  for  pain,  or  fear,  or  need;  to 
love,  though  love's  light  be  obscured ;  to  love  so  deeply 
and  truly  as  to  work  a  miracle  and  "  behold  the  sun  at 
night." 

The  keenest  significance  is  often  condensed  in  his 
words  as  in  these  couplets :  — 

"  Thought  is  the  wages 
For  which  I  sell  days." 

"  Would' st  thou  seal  up  the  avenues  of  ill  ? 
Pay  every  debt  as  if  God  wrote  the  bill." 

"  What  boots  it  ?     What  the  soldier's  mail 
Unless  he  conquer  and  prevail  ? " 

To  the  supreme  gift  of  life,  —  personal  charm,  — 
Emerson  gives  this  tribute :  — 

"  I  hold  it  of  little  matter 
Whether  your  jewel  be  of  pure  water, 
A  rose  diamond  or  a  white, 
But  whether  it  dazzle  me  with  light. 
I  care  not  how  you  are  dressed. 
In  coarsest  weeds  or  in  the  best : 
But  whether  you  charm  me, 
Bid  my  bread  feed  and  my  fire  warm  me.** 


CONCORD,  AND   ITS   FAMOUS   AUTHORS     127 

With  this  gift  of  the  gods  —  this  perfect  inflorescence 
of  wit  and  grace  —  Emerson  was  signally  endowed, 
and  Mr.  Longfellow  eloquently  recognized  this  charm 
when  he  called  the  Concord  seer  "  the  Chrysostom  of 
his  day." 

In  the  group  of  poems  entitled  '*  Initial,  Dsemoniac, 
and  Celestial  Love,"  there  is  the  most  perfect  exposition 
of  holy  and  consecrated  love,  in  its  immortal  significance, 
untouched  and  unchanged  by  any  of  the  changes  or  the 
incidents  and  accidents  of  life  on  earth,  that  is  por- 
trayed in  the  English  language.  Not  even  the  sonnets 
of  Shakspeare,  nor  Mrs.  Browning's  ''  Sonnets  from 
the  Portuguese  "  contain  anything  more  noble  than  such 
lines  as  these  from  "  The  Celestial  Love." 

"  But  God  said, 
'  I  will  have  a  purer  gift ; 
There  is  smoke  in  the  flame  ; 
JSTew  flowerets  bring,  new  prayers  uplift, 
And  love  without  a  name. 
Fond  children,  ye  desire 
To  please  each  other  well ; 
Another  round,  a  higher, 
Ye  shall  climb  on  the  heavenly  stair, 
And  selfish  preference  forbear ; ' 

Nor  less  the  eternal  poles 

Of  tendency  distribute  souls. 

There  need  no  vows  to  bind 

Whom  not  each  other  seek,  but  find. 

They  give  and  take  no  pledge  or  oath,  — 

Nature  is  the  bond  of  both  : 

No  prayer  persuades,  no  flattery  fawns,  — 

Their  noble  meanings  are  their  pawns." 


128  BOSTON   DAYS 


Again  we  find  in  Emerson :  — 

*'  Give  all  to  love  ; 
Obey  thy  heart : 
Friends,  kindred,  days, 
Estate,  good-fame, 
Plans,  credit,  and  the  Muse, 
Nothing  refuse. 

Follow  it  utterly, 
Hope  beyond  hope !  " 


The  Emerson  and  the  Alcott  households  almost 
equally  divide  the  interest  of  those  who  still  make 
their  passionate  pilgrimage  to  Concord. 

The  life  of  the  Alcott  family  is  an  epic  poem,  and  its 
quality  is  fairly  photographed  in  Louisa  Alcott's  "  Little 
Women/'  —  a  story  that  has  so  marvellously  touched  life 
because  it  was  written  out  of  the  very  springs  of  vitality. 

Mr.  Alcott  was  the  mystic  by  nature  and  by  grace. 
He  was  great  when  tried  by  the  standard  of  spiritual 
measurement;  but  his  faculties  did  not  relate  them- 
selves to  the  needs  of  ordinary  life.  Measured,  too,  by 
professional  demands,  he  had  too  little  of  the  applied 
powers  to  have  ever  made  a  successful  teacher,  author, 
or  lecturer  on  genuine  professional  lines.  Mr.  Frothing- 
ham,  in  his  "  Transcendentalism  in  New  England," 
says  of  Mr.  Alcott :  ^^  He  is  not  a  learned  man  in  the 
ordinary  sense  of  the  term  ;  not  a  man  of  versatile  mind 
or  various  tastes ;  not  a  man  of  general  information  in 
worldly  or  even  literary  affairs ;  not  a  man  of  extensive 
commerce  with  books.     Though  a  reader,  and  a  con- 


CONCORD,   AND   ITS   FAMOUS   AUTHORS     129 

stant  and  faithful  one,  his  reading  has  been  limited  to 
books  of  poetry  —  chiefly  of  the  meditative  and  interior 
sort  —  and  works  of  spiritual  philosophy.  Plato, 
Plotinus,  Proclus,  Jamblichus,  Pythagoras,  Boehme, 
Swedenborg,  are  the  names  oftener  than  any  on  his 
pages  and  lips." 

Mr.  Alcott  was  born  in  Wolcott,  Conn.,  Nov.  29, 
1799,  the  eldest  of  eight  children.  His  ancestry  was 
that  of  the  plain  living  and  high  thinking  which  has 
contributed  the  best  elements  to  American  citizenship. 
The  boy  was  born  with  a  taste  for  books.  The  limita- 
tions of  poverty  were  in  the  little  household,  but  while 
there  was  poverty  of  the  purse  there  was  no  poverty 
of  the  spirit.  The  kingdom  of  the  mind,  like  that  of 
heaven,  is  open  to  all  who  can  receive.  Not  that 
there  could  be  claimed  for  Mr.  Alcott  the  dower  of  a 
great  genius.  It  was  instead  that  of  a  very  unique 
personality,  —  a  nature  singularly  pure,  sweet,  and 
trustful  as  a  child ;  with  no  little  unconscious  but 
never  offensive  egotism ;  hospitable  to  all  generous 
impulses  and  high  thought,  but  almost  totally  deficient 
in  what  Emerson  calls  the  useful,  reconciling  talents. 
Of  him  Emerson  wrote  to  Carlyle  in  October  of  1862  : 
"  As  for  Alcott,  you  have  discharged  your  conscience 
of  him  manfully  and  knightly.  I  absolve  you  well. 
He  is  a  great  man,  and  was  made  for  what  is  greatest ; 
but  I  now  fear  that  he  has  already  touched  what  best 
he  can  and  through  his  more  than  prophetic  egotism 
and  the  absence  of  all  useful  reconciling  talents,  will 
bring  nothing  to  pass,  and  be  but  a  voice  in  the  wilder- 

9 


ISO  BOSTON  DAYS 


ness,  as  you  do  not  seem  to  have  seen  in  him  under  his 
pure  and  noble  intellect.  I  fear  that  it  lies  under 
some  new  and  denser  clouds."  Mr.  Alcott  apparently 
thought  that  Pheidias  need  not  be  always  tinkering. 
His  nature  was  created  for  an  Arcadian  age,  and  to 
the  shrewd,  sharp,  economic  New  England  atmosphere 
he  brought  no  adaptation.  Of  economic  concerns 
and  the  market  Mr.  Alcott  had  as  little  conception  as 
the  great  god  Pan  might  bring.  His  affinities  were 
far  more  with  grave,  mystic  contemplation  while  loiter- 
ing "  in  the  reeds  by  the  river."  Yet  here  he  was  in 
this  work-a-day  world,  where  the  poor  man  must  pro- 
ceed to  get  a  living  before  he  can  altogether  live,  — 
a  world  which  insists  on  the  logical  development  that 
depends  on  the  material  for  its  first  stage  and  substantial 
basis.  Mr.  Alcott's  ideal  nature,  however,  was  only 
fitted  for  an  ideal  world.  He  was  full  of  love  and 
trust,  and  faith  and  fine  insights.  Unfortunately  faith 
and  love  do  not  keep  the  pot  boiling,  and  the  fires  of 
the  gods  cannot  be  transmuted  to  domestic  service. 
Nor  was  Mr.  Alcott  sufficiently  great  in  intellect  to 
command  from  the  world  its  material  resources  in 
return  for  his  own  bestowal  of  finer  gifts.  Agassiz 
declared  his  independence  of  the  market,  and  asserted 
that  his  time  was  too  valuable  to  give  it  to  earning 
money.  But  he  gave  the  world  that  which  enriched 
its  resources,  which  had  its  positive  value  to  the  econo- 
mists as  well  as  its  special  message  to  the  scholar,  and 
for  him  the  world  of  bustling  activities  was  well  lost. 
Not  so  Mr.  Alcott.     He  had  a  message  of  value,  but 


CONCORD,  AND   ITS    FAMOUS    AUTHORS     131 

the  time  was  not  yet  ripe.  His  theory  of  the  education 
of  children,  which  was  the  most  tangible  and  positive 
contribution  he  had  to  make  to  the  age  of  his  early 
manhood,  was  regarded  as  dreamy  and  unpractical. 

It  was  the  development  theory,  the  truth  that  a  little 
later  haunted  the  brain  of  Froebel  and  of  Pestalozzi, 
but  the  busy,  practical  New  England  life  was  not 
then  ready  for  this  grafting  of  higher  truth.  Ex- 
cepting with  Emerson  and  Margaret  Fuller,  Bronson 
Alcott,  in  his  earlier  life,  found  little  sympathy  and 
appreciation.  Yet  his  message  was  one  that  could 
wait.  In  any  retrospective  glance  over  the  wonderful 
Nineteenth  century,  the  appearance  of  this  purely  Greek 
nature  seems  more  than  ever  an  anomaly  in  New  England 
life.     Emerson  has  wittily  said  :  — 

"Unless  to  thought  is  added  will, 
Apollo  is  an  imbecile.'* 

Mr.  Alcott  was  by  no  means  an  imbecile,  yet  it  must 
be  confessed  that  not  much  power  of  will  was  ever 
added  to  his  thought.  His  purposes  were  always 
nebulous  and  undefined,  and  yet  so  pure  and  exalted 
that  they  were  a  tremendous  force  for  the  good. 
George  Eliot,  in  her  ^^  Middlemarch,"  makes  Dorothea 
say  something  to  the  effect  that  by  desiring  what  is 
good,  even  if  we  do  not  know  exactly  what  it  is,  we 
become  a  part  of  its  power.  This  was  illustrated  in 
the  life  of  Bronson  Alcott.  The  story  of  his  early  life 
is  not  unfamiliar,  —  his  attendance  at  a  district  school, 
his  experiences  as  a  pedler,  —  but  it  was  only  as  he 


132  BOSTON   DAYS 

came  to  Boston  and  began  to  find  his  own  place  that 
his  life  began  to  take  on  significance. 

In  June  of  1836,  some  years  after  his  marriage,  he 
wrote  to  his  mother,  saying:  "You  are  associated  in 
my  heart  with  sympathy  forever.  I  was  diffident ;  you 
never  mortified  me.  I  was  quiet ;  you  never  excited  me. 
I  loved  my  books ;  you  encouraged  me  to  read.  You 
knew  my  love  for  the  beautiful,  and  you  cherished 
it.  I  am  sure  that  I  owe  not  a  little  of  my  serenity  of 
mind,  hope,  and  trust  in  the  future  to  you." 

When  Mr.  Alcott  met  and  married  Abigail  May 
(a  sister  of  Rev.  Samuel  May),  he  found  the  ideal 
complement  of  his  nature.  They  were  married  in 
King's  Chapel,  in  Boston,  in  May,  1830.  Miss  May 
was  the  daughter  of  Colonel  Joseph  and  Dorothy 
(Sewall)  May,  born  in  October,  1800,  a  woman  of 
singular  beauty  and  force  of  character.  Mrs.  Alcott 
quite  understood  the  life  which  she  was  entering 
on  her  marriage.  Soon  after  that  event  she  wrote  to 
her  brother  :  ""  My  husband  is  the  perfect  personification 
of  modesty  and  moderation.  I  am  not  sure  that  we 
shall  not  blush  into  obscurity  and  contemplate  into 
starvation."  There  was  in  Connecticut  an  educational 
fund  of  $1,000,000  which  Mr.  Alcott— not  an  edu- 
cated man  in  the  college  sense,  not  a  man  possessing 
at  that  time  any  social  or  financial  influence  —  resolved 
should  be  used  for  higher  educational  purposes  than  had 
heretofore  been  the  custom,  and  as  a  lofty  purpose  en- 
forces its  own  right  of  way  he  succeeded  in  effecting  this 
decision.     Education,  indeed,  in  the  broad  sense  of  the 


CONCORD,  AND   ITS   FAMOUS   AUTHORS     133 

term,  was  Mr.  Alcott's  ideal  aim,  and  there  are  results 
seen  to-day  in  the  better  training  of  children  that  can  be 
traced  to  his  influence.  To  speak  of  the  better  class  of 
the  young  people  of  his  day  as  not  being  "  educated  "  is 
slightly  misleading,  for  in  culture  they  far  exceeded  many 
of  the  college-bred  men  and  women  of  to-day.  At  the 
age  of  nineteen  we  find  Miss  May  (afterward  Mrs. 
Alcott)  reading  Fdnelon  in  the  original,  studying  Latin 
and  botany,  and  reading  Hume,  Gibbon,  Hallam,  Scott, 
Locke,  and  Stewart,  taking  these  authors  into  her  daily 
life.  But  one  smiles  to  read  in  a  passage  of  her 
diary  the  way  in  which  Mr.  Alcott  entertained  his 
fiancee  during  the  engagement.  She  writes  to  a 
friend :  — 

"  He  read  to  me  two  interesting  articles,  —  a  review  of 
'Hints  for  the  Improvement  of  Early  Education  and 
Nursery  Discipline '  and  one  on  the  '  Management  of 
Children  with  a  View  to  their  Future  Character.'" 

A  wonderful  life  began  with  this  new  household,  —  a 
life  which  radiated  peace,  tenderness,  sweetness,  and 
beauty  to  the  community,  and  finally  to  all  the  world. 
The  potency  of  a  noble  ideal  is  seen  in  the  fact 
that  Mr.  Alcott,  when  young,  unknown,  and  poor, 
with  no  conceivable  influence  in  the  world  save  that 
of  his  own  lofty  thought,  determined  that  a  Connecti- 
cut fund  for  educational  purposes  should  be  used 
for  higher  ends  than  those  to  which  it  had  been 
devoted,  and  he  succeeded.  Soon  after  their  marriage 
the   Alcotts    removed    to  Germantown,   a   suburb   of 


134  BOSTON   DAYS 


Philadelphia,   where   Louisa   Alcott   was  born  on  her 
father's  birthday  (November  29)  in  1832. 

The  friendship  of  Emerson  and  Alcott  (as  notable  as 
that  of  Goethe  and  Schiller)  must  have  begun  before 
the  Alcotts'  removal  to  Germantown,  for  in  1838  Emer- 
son said  of  his  friend :  "  Alcott  is  a  ray  of  the  oldest 
light.  They  say  the  light  of  some  stars  that  parted 
from  the  orb  at  the  deluge  of  ISToah  has  only  now 
reached  the  earth."  The  autumn  of  1839  found  the 
Alcotts  again  in  Boston,  where  Mr.  Alcott  opened 
the  famous  Temple  School,  which  Elizabeth  Pea- 
body  has  described.  Of  his  arrangements  Mr.  Alcott 
said :  — 

"  I  have  spared  no  expense  to  surround  the  senses 
with  appropriate  emblems  of  intellectual  and  spiritual  life. 
Paintings,  busts,  and  books  have  been  deemed  important. 
I  wish  to  fill  every  form  with  significance  and  life,  thus 
placing  the  child  in  spiritual  loveliness." 

"With  thirty  pupils  at  a  tuition  of  $60  per  year  Mr. 
Alcott  entered  on  this  work.  To  have  $1,800  a  year 
looked  to  him  like  a  competency,  and  his  work  was  joy, 
for  in  it  he  expressed  his  highest  conception  of  life.  It  is 
a  sad  commentary  on  the  press  of  that  day  that  the  local 
papers  attacked  this  ideal  school  until  it  had  to  be  sus- 
pended, and  Mr.  Alcott's  health  broke  down  with  the 
disappointment  and  grief  Emerson,  ever  hospitable 
and  generously  considerate,  invited  the  Alcotts  to 
come  to  his  house  to  recover,  and  in  his  note  he  said  : 
*'  If  you  will  come  here  and  get  well,  we  will  agree  on 


CONCORD,  AND   ITS    FAMOUS   AUTHORS     135 

hours  of  sitting  together  and  apart,  and  nobody  shall  be 
allowed  to  annoy  you."  In  October  of  1837  Emerson 
wrote  of  Alcott  to  Dr.  Furness :  — 

"  I  shall  always  love  you  for  loving  Alcott.  He  is  a 
great  man  ;  the  god  with  the  herdsmen  of  Admetus.  I 
cannot  think  you  know  him  now,  when  I  remember  how 
long  he  has  been  here,  for  he  grows  every  month.  His 
conversation  is  sublime ;  yet  when  I  see  how  he  is  under- 
estimated by  cultivated  people  I  fancy  none  but  I  have 
heard  him  talk." 

In  the  "Sonnets,"  which  Mr.  Alcott  wrote  in  his 
eightieth  year,  he  thus  describes  the  early  reading  of 
his  wife:  — 

"  My  lady  reads,  with  judgment  and  good  taste, 
Books  not  too  many,  but  the  wisest,  best, 
Pregnant  with  sentiment  sincere  and  chaste, 
Rightly  conceived  were  they  and  aptly  dressed. 
These  wells  of  learning  tastes  she  at  the  source,  — 
Johnson's  poised  periods,  Fenelon's  deep  sense, 
Taylor's  mellifluous  and  sage  discourse. 
Majestic  Milton's  epic  eloquence, — 
Nor  these  alone  do  all  her  thoughts  en'gage, 
But  classic  authors  of  the  modern  time, 
And  the  great  masters  of  the  ancient  age, 
In  prose  alike  and  of  the  lofty  rhyme  : 
Montaigne  and  Cowper,  Plutarch's  gallery, 
Blind  Homer's  Iliad  and  his  Odyssey." 

The  children  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Alcott  were  Anna  Bron- 
son,  born  in  1831  ;  Louisa  May,  in  1832;  Elizabeth,  and 
May,  born  in  1834  and  1840.  The  third  daughter  was 
the  "  Beth  "  of  "  Little  Women,"  and  died  in  early  girl- 
hood.    May  Alcott  became  an  artist,  and   married   in 


136  BOSTON   DAYS 


Paris  a  Swiss  gentleman,  M.  Nieriker.  A  year  later 
she  died,  leaving  a  little  daughter  named  Louisa  May, 
for  her  aunt  Louisa,  who  immediately  adopted  her,  and 
duriog  all  her  childhood  the  little  girl  was  in  Concord 
with  her  mother's  family,  the  especial  pet  and  darling  of 
her  aunt  and  grandfather.  On  Miss  Alcott's  death  her 
father  came,  taking  the  little  maid  with  him  to  his  Swiss 
home  in  Geneva.  The  eldest  daughter,  Anna  Bronson, 
married  Mr.  John  Pratt.  She  died  leaving  two  sons, 
one  of  whom  was  adopted  by  his  aunt  Louisa,  and  his 
name  legally  changed  to  Alcott. 

The  two  brothers,  Mr.  Alcott  and  Mr.  Pratt,  the  sons 
of  Anna  Alcott  Pratt ;  and  Miss  Louisa  May  Nieriker, 
the  daughter  of  May  Alcott  Nieriker,  are  the  only  liv- 
ing grandchildren  of  Mr.  Alcott,  whose  name  and  life 
continue  to  be  among  the  present  vital  forces  in  New 
England  life. 

The  husband  and  wife  read  together  from  Aristotle, 
Plato,  Bacon,  Carlyle,  Shelley,  Sismondi,  and  various 
other  authors.  The  sonnet  in  which  (in  his  advanced 
age)  Mr.  Alcott  describes  Elizabeth  Peabody  is  reminis- 
cent of  her  association  with  his  school,  and  it  is  fairly  a 
portrait  of  the  great-souled  woman :  — 

*'  Daughter  of  Memory!  who  her  watch  doth  keep 
O'er  dark  Oblivion's  land  of  shade  and  dream, 
Peers  down  into  the  realm  of  ancient  Sleep, 
Where  Thought  uprises  with  a  sudden  gleam 
And  lights  the  devious  path  'twixt  Be  and  Seem. 
Mythologist  !  that  doth  thy  legend  steep 
Plenteously  with  opiate  and  anodyne, 
Inweaving  fact  with  fable,  line  with  line, 


CONCORD,  AND   ITS   FAMOUS   AUTHORS     137 

Entangling  anecdote  and  episode, 

Mindful  of  all  that  all  men  meant  or  said,  — 

We  follow,  pleased,  thy  labyrinthine  road, 

By  Ariadne's  skein  and  lesson  led  : 

For  thou  hast  wrought  so  excellently  well, 

Thou  drop'st  more  casual  truth  than  sages  tell." 

In  his  schoolroom  Mr.  Alcott  placed  the  busts  of 
Plato,  Socrates,  Shakspeare,  and  Milton,  a  head  of 
Jesus  in  high  relief,  and  other  works  of  art.  Emerson 
said  of  it :  "  When  Alcott  had  made  the  room  beautiful 
he  looked  at  his  work  as  half  done." 

The  way  in  which  the  people  of  those  days  wrote  the 
most  lengthy  letters  to  each  other  constantly,  and 
the  way  in  which  they  wrote  their  daily  journals  by  the 
yard,  so  to  speak,  suggests  that  time  must  have  been 
far  more  unlimited  than  now.  Probably  the  simplicity 
of  ways  and  means  had  much  to  do  with  this.  The 
diaries  of  Emerson,  Alcott,  Miss  Peabody,  Margaret 
Fuller,  etc.,  contain  the  most  abstruse  reflections,  as, 
for  instance,  in  one  entry  of  Alcott's  in  1856  he  begins 
by  noting  that  he  has  had  a  long  conversation  with 
"'  L.  G."  regarding  the  ante-terrestrial  life,  and  he  runs  on 
for  pages  on  this  subject.  It  is  not,  however,  that 
life  is  the  less  noble  or  exalted  now,  in  this  new  cen- 
tury, than  at  that  time ;  it  is  rather  that  we  are  trans- 
lating the  abstract  into  the  practical  realization ;  that 
the  dreams  of  the  past  have  become  the  deeds  of  to-day. 
An  evening  is  not  passed  in  discussing  the  origin  of  the 
myth  of  Ceres  after  the  fashion  of  Margaret  Fuller  and 
her  associates,  but  rather,  perhaps,  there  is  discussed 
the  way  to  improve   tenement-houses  or  to   establish 


138  BOSTON   DAYS 


vacation  schools,  or  to  bring  the  teaching  of  music 
within  the  reach  of  every  one,  and  this  translation  of 
theory  into  practical  activities  is  by  no  means  retro- 
gressive, but  progressive  instead.  The  rich  and  beauti- 
ful past  of  Boston  has  flowered  in  a  still  richer  and 
more  beautiful  present. 

Somewhere  about  1840  "  The  Dial "  appeared,  and  the 
contributions  of  Mr.  Alcott  excited  no  little  ridicule. 
In  the  "Memoirs"  of  Mr.  Alcott  written  by  Mr. 
Sanborn  and  Dr.  Harris  this  passage  occurs :  — 

' '  Our  apparent  failures  are  often  the  greatest  success  ; 
and  there  is  nothing,  not  even  the  Crucifixion,  which  the 
levity  of  mankind  cannot  hold  in  derision  for  a  time. 
Great  was  the  laughter  in  Boston,  and  lively,  no  doubt, 
the  village  cachinnation  of  Concord,  when  the  Boston 
'  Post '  daily  burlesqued  Alcott  in  '  The  Dial/  and  Emerson 
in  his  lecture-room;  when  Dr.  Holmes,  at  the  festivals  of 
Harvard  College,  laughed  at  Edmund  Quincy,  at  Garrison 
and  Phillips,  as  — 

"  Men  such  as  May  to  Marlborough  chapel  brings, 
Lean,  hungry,  savage,  anti-every things, 
Copies  of  Luther  in  the  pasteboard  style  —  " 

Or,  with  more  copious  rhetoric  specially  barbed  for 
Alcott  and  Emerson,  recited  this  — 

"  With  uncouth  words  they  tire  their  tender  lungs, 
The  same  bald  phrases  on  their  hundred  tongues  ; 
'  Ever '  '  The  Ages '  in  their  page  appear, 
'  Alway '  the  bedlamite  is  called  a  '  Seer ; ' 
On  every  leaf  the  '  earnest  '  sage  may  scan, 
Portentous  bore  !  their  '  many-sided  '  man  — 


CONCORD,  AND   ITS   FAMOUS   AUTHORS     139 

A  weak  eclectic,  groping  vague  and  dim, 
Whose  every  angle  is  a  half-starved  whim, 
Blind  as  a  mole  and  curious  as  a  lynx, 
Who  rides  a  beetle,  which  he  calls  a  '  Sphinx.'  " 

Mr.  Alcott's  experiment  at  Fruitlands  —  some  twenty 
miles  from  Concord — has  become  historic.  The  phi- 
losopher made  a  great  distinction  between  the  products 
that  '^  aspired,"  or  grew  in  air,  as  wheat  and  fruits,  and 
those  which  basely  and  ignominiously  grew  in  the 
ground,  as  beets  and  potatoes.  The  latter  he  considered 
unfit  for  food.  Emerson  wrote  of  this  experiment: 
''  Alcott  and  Lane  are  always  feeling  of  their  shoulders, 
to  find  if  their  wings  are  sprouting ;  but  next  best  to 
wings  are  cowhide  boots,  which  society  is  always 
advising  them  to  put  on.  It  is  really  Alcott's  dis- 
tinction that,  rejoicing  or  desponding,  this  man  always 
trusts  his  principle,  whilst  all  vulgar  reformers  rely  on 
the  arm  of  money  and  the  law." 

A  little  later  Emerson  again  wrote :  — 

"  Last  night  in  the  conversation  Alcott  appeared  to 
great  advantage,  and  I  saw  again,  as  often  before,  his 
singular  superiority.  As  pure  intellect  I  have  never 
seen  his  equal.  The  people  with  whom  he  talks  do  not 
ever  understand  him.  .  .  .  Yesterday  Alcott  left  me, 
after  three  days  spent  here.  I  had  lain  down  a  man  and 
had  waked  up  a  bruise,  by  reason  of  a  bad  cold,  and  was 
lumpish,  tardy,  and  cold.  Yet  could  I  see  plainly  that 
I  conversed  with  the  most  extraordinary  man  and  the 
highest  genius  of  the  time.  He  is  a  man.  He  is  erect; 
he  sees,  let  whoever  be  overthrown  or  parasitic  or 
blind." 


140  BOSTON   DAYS 


Mrs.  Cheney  has  said  that  while  Theodore  Parker 
admired  Alcott  and  recognized  his  value,  he  found  no 
help  from  him  on  account  of  their  different  intellectual 
methods.  The  Alcotts  returned  to  Concord  from  the 
Fruitlands  experiment,  and  about  1845  established 
themselves  in  the  Orchard  House,  near  Emerson,  and 
adjoining  the  Wayside,  Hawthorne's  home.  Thoreau, 
about  this  time,  built  his  hut  on  Walden  Pond,  and 
there  located  himself.  A  series  of  "conversations" 
(which  seemed  to  be  the  favorite  amusement  of  the 
day,  their  opera,  their  theatre,  as  it  were)  were  held, 
in  which  Emerson,  Thoreau,  Theodore  Parker,  Dr. 
Channing,  James  Freeman  Clarke,  and  Alcott  took  part. 
In  one  of  these  conversations  Mr.  Alcott  said  :  — 

"  The  desire  for  wealth  has  its  good  side  also.  Cali- 
fornia, with  all  its  greed  of  gold,  will  become  poetical  ; 
but  what  men  desire  is  not  the  true  wealth,  although 
commerce  has  been  and  is  our  most  adventurous  missionary 
and  civilizer.  Trade  imports  things  which  minister  to 
the  lower  nature,  but  we  want  an  importation  of  all  good 
things,  so  as  to  form  the  perfect  man  and  the  great  nation. 
Let  the  Oriental  scriptures  come  to  us  as  well  as  the 
silks,  the  tea,  and  the  diamonds,  —  let  them  be  translated 
for  the  common  benefit  of  mankind,  so  that  we  may  trace 
the  stream  of  inspiration  to  its  sources." 

Of  late  years  the  "Oriental  scriptures"  have  come 
to  American  life  and  their  greatness  has  become  rather 
generally  familiar.  The  present  age  is  not  a  sordid 
material  one,  but  is  rather  the  heir  of  all  the  ages  and 
freighted  with  still  richer  treasure  than  that  of  a  half- 
century  ago. 


CONCORD,   AND    ITS   FAMOUS   AUTHORS     141 

It  is  sometimes  asked,  "  What  did  Mr.  Alcott  leave 
as  tangible  results  of  life  ?  He  made  no  special  con- 
tribution to  literature ;  he  founded  no  institutions." 

The  reply  may  be  that  Mr.  Alcott  was  to  the  century 
a  source  of  the  purest  and  most  potent  influence  which, 
though  diffused  like  the  air  and  hardly  crystallized  into 
language  or  literature,  is  yet,  like  the  atmosphere,  a 
most  potent  and  indispensable  power  in  the  general 
life  of  humanity.  Influence  is  the  most  spiritual  form 
of  power,  and  that  of  this  ideal  and  pure-hearted  man 
permeates  the  life  of  Boston  to-day  and  radiates,  indeed, 
so  widely  that  to  it  no  limits  may  be  assigned.  Mr. 
Alcott  and  his  family  continued  to  pass  most  of  their 
life  in  Concord.  When  Louisa  Alcott's  genius  first 
began  to  make  itself  felt,  money  for  the  first  time  flowed 
in  to  make  life  easier  in  a  household  whose  altars  were 
always  consecrated  to  truth  and  aspiration.  Mr.  Frank 
B.  Sanborn  has  said  :  — 

"  Wherever  Alcott  dwelt  the  altars  of  learning  stood 
and  were  served  with  daily  worship,  for  he  was  the  most 
studious  of  mankind,  as  well  as  the  most  radical  and 
reformatory." 

The  Alcott  household  life  was  vividly  interpreted  in 
the  pages  of  Miss  Alcott's  "Little  Women,"  and  it 
there  lives  and  radiates  its  beautiful  influence  to  gene- 
ration after  generation. 

"  Alcott  had  singular  gifts,"  said  Emerson,  ''  for 
awakening  contemplation  and  aspiration  in  untaught 
and  in  cultivated  persons."   How  strangely  introspective 


142  BOSTON   DAYS 


were  these  lives,  and  how  much  more  indeed  did  they 
get  out  of  life  than  those  who  never  pause  long  enough 
to  be  steeped  in  an  impression  I 

When  the  Alcott  family  took  up  their  residence  in 
Concord,  in  1857,  in  the  ^'Orchard  House,"  the  Haw- 
thornes  were  in  Europe,  not  returning  until  three  years 
later.  In  the  spring  of  1858  Louisa  Alcott  writes  in 
her  diary:  — 

"  Came  to  occupy  one  wing  of  Hawthorne's  house  (once 
ours)  while  the  new  one  was  being  repaired.  Father, 
mother,  and  I  kept  house  together ;  May  being  in  Boston, 
Anna  at  Pratt  Farm,  and,  for  the  first  time,  Lizzie  ab- 
sent. .  .  .  July,  1858.  Went  into  the  new  house  and 
began  to  settle.  Father  is  happy  ;  mother  glad  to  be  at 
rest ;  Anna  is  in  bliss  with  her  gentle  John ;  and  May 
busy  over  her  pictures.  I  have  plans  simmering,  but 
must  sweep  and  dust,  and  wash  my  dish-pans  awhile 
longer  till  I  see  my  way." 

In  the  "  Memoirs "  of  Bronson  Alcott  Mr.  Sanborn 
says  of  this  period  in  the  Alcott  fortunes :  — 

"  These  first  years  of  family  life  at  the  Orchard  House, 
although  not  years  of  outward  prosperity,  were  a  season 
of  great  importance  for  the  literary  activity  and  the  per- 
sonal enjoyment  of  the  Alcott  family.  The  early  circle 
of  friends  who  had  found  Concord  so  delightful  from 
1840  to  1848  was  still  unbroken  by  death,  —  for  only 
Margaret  Fuller,  who  was  shipwrecked  in  1850,  had 
passed  away ;  and  Hawthorne,  after  his  long  residence  in 
Europe,  was  returning  to  spend  the  rest  of  his  life  at 
Concord.  Emerson  was  in  his  most  active  career  as  a 
public  teacher  by  lectures  and  discourses ;  Thoreau  also 


CONCORD,  AND   ITS   FAMOUS   AUTHORS     14S 

lectured  frequently,  and  was  making  those  observations 
on  Nature  and  Man  which  since  his  death  have  filled  so 
many  volumes ;  and  Ellery  Channing,  after  a  short  ab- 
sence in  New  Bedford,  where  he  edited  a  newspaper,  had 
returned  to  Concord,  and  was  living  in  the  immediate 
neighborhood  of  Thoreau.  Mrs.  Ripley,  that  learned 
lady,  who  read  Greek  for  pleasure,  dwelt  in  the  Old 
Manse,  with  her  daughters  near  her ;  and  Elizabeth  Hoar, 
since  her  father's  death  in  1856,  was  occupying  his  hos- 
pitable house,  and  joining  in  the  studies  and  pursuits  of 
her  friends,  young  and  old." 

When  Mr.  Alcott  was  about  to  make  a  trip  abroad, 
Emerson  thus  wrote  of  him  to  Carlyle :  — 

' '  About  this  time,  or  perhaps  a  few  weeks  later,  we  shall 
send  you  a  large  piece  of  spiritual  New  England,  in  the 
shape  of  A.  Bronson  Alcott,  who  is  to  sail  for  London 
about  the  20th  of  April,  and  whom  you  must  not  fail  to 
see,  if  you  can  compass  it.  A  man  who  cannot  write, 
but  whose  conversation  is  unrivalled  in  its  way,  —  such 
insight,  such  discernment  of  spirits,  such  pure  intellectual 
play,  such  revolutionary  impulses  of  thought ;  whilst  he 
speaks  he  has  no  peer,  and  yet  all  men  say  '  such  par- 
tiality of  view.'  I,  who  hear  the  same  charge  always 
laid  at  my  own  gate,  do  not  so  readily  feel  that  fault  in 
my  friend.  But  I  entreat  you  to  see  this  man.  Since 
Plato  and  Plotinus  we  have  not  had  his  like.  I  have 
written  to  Carlyle  that  he  is  coming,  but  have  told  him 
nothing  about  him.  For  I  should  like  well  to  see  Alcott 
before  that  sharp-eyed  painter  for  his  portrait,  without 
prejudice  of  any  kind." 

The  "Orchard  House"  where  the  Alcotts  lived  so 
long  is  one  of  the  homes  cobwebbed  with  memories. 


144  BOSTON   DAYS 


The  stately  trees  vocal  in  the  evening  wind  ;  the  orchard 
embalmed  in  the  "Concord  Days"  of  Mr.  Alcott; 
^'  May's  Studio,"  where  sweet  May  Alcott  sketched  and 
painted  and  dreamed;  the  shaded  grounds  where  the 
four  "  Little  Women  "  played,  —  all  make  up  a  beauti- 
ful picture  that  still  lives  in  memory.  Associated  with 
this  home  are  those  exquisite  and  touching  poems  of 
Mr.  Alcott  and  of  Miss  Alcott  when  the  shadow  of 
sorrow  fell,  and  the  artist  daughter  and  sister  had  gone 
from  them  to  that  far,  fair  country,  where  flowers  are 
fadeless  and  where  love  is  deathless. 

"It  was  but  yesterday 
That  all  was  bright  and  fair 
Came  o'er  the  sea 
So  merrily, 

News  from  my  darling  there. 
Now  o'er  the  sea 
Comes  hither  to  me 
Knell  of  despair, 
*  No  more,  no  longer  there.' 

*'  Ah,  gentle  May ! 
Could'st  thou  not  stay  ? 
Why  hurriest  thou  so  swift  away  ? 
No,  —  not  the  same, 

Nor  can  it  be, 
That  lovely  name. 

Ever  again  what  once  it  was  to  me. 

"  Broken  the  golden  band, 
Severed  the  silken  strand, 

Ye  sisters  four  ! 
Still  to  me  two  remain, 

And  two  have  gone  before ; 


CONCORD,  AND   ITS    FAMOUS   AUTHORS     145 

Our  loss,  her  gain. 

And  He  wlio  gave  can  all  restore. 
And  yet,  O  why, 
My  heart  doth  cry, 
Why  take  her  thus  away  ?  " 

When  one  reflects  that  these  tender,  beautiful  lines 
were  written  by  the  silver-haired  sage  in  his  eighty-first 
year,  the  purity  of  his  life  is  realized  anew  in  being  thus 
in  tune  with  "the  holiness  of  perfect  thought." 

In  his  latest  years  he  told  in  verse  the  story  of  his 
life,  from  the  time  the  '^mild  schoolmaster"  wooed  his 
love,  fair  Abby  May,  and  led  his  bride  out  of  the  old 
King's  Chapel  to  begin  their  wedded  life  together; 
through  the  years  when  children  came  to  crown  his 
life ;  through  the  beautiful  friendships  which  that  hos- 
pitable home  invited ;  and  closing  with  the  last  touch- 
ing lines  read  over  the  lifeless  form  of  his  friend,  Mr. 
Emerson.  The  "  Love's  Morrow  "  commemorated  the 
death  of  his  daughter  May  in  the  far  foreign  land,  and 
the  coming  of  her  baby  daughter  to  his  heart  and  home 
is  lightly  touched  in  these  simple  stanzas :  — 

"  Voyager  across  the  seas, 

In  my  arms  thy  form  I  press  ; 
Come,  my  baby,  me  to  please, 
Blue-eyed  nursling,  motherless. 


"  Safe,  ye  angels,  keep  this  child,  — 
Lifelong  guard  her  innocence  ; 
Winsome  ways  and  temper  mild, 
Heaven,  our  home,  be  her  defence !" 

In  one  of  his  sonnets  to  Emerson  occur  the  lines, 

10 


146  BOSTON  DAYS 


"  Thy  fellowship  was  my  culture,  noble  friend ! 
And  lifelong  hath  it  been  high  compliment 
By  that  to  have  been  known,  and  thy  friend  styled.'* 

One  addressed  to  Margaret  Fuller  says  of  her  life,  - — 

"  Charming  all  other,  dwelling  still  alone." 

Professor  Harris  is  addressed  as,  — 

"  Interpreter  of  the  Pure  Keason's  laws 
And  all  the  obligations  Thought  doth  owe, 
These  high  ambassadors  of  her  great  cause." 

As  the  Christian  of  old  marked  the  year  with  prayers, 
Mr.  Alcott  marked  his  years  with  his  poems,  which  tell 
all  the  story  to  the  reader  who  holds  the  key.  Of  old 
John  Brown  he  would  speak  in  earnest  words  of  his 
martyr-spirit. 

"He  knew  just  what  the  result  would  be  to  him," 
said  Mr.  Alcott,  "  and  he  was  ready  for  the  sacrifice ; 
nor  do  I  believe  freedom  would  ever  have  triumphed  as 
it  did  without  the  aid  and  the  inspiration  of  his  life." 

The  fame  of  Bronson  Alcott  is  not  that  of  the  literary 
man  in  the  exclusive  sense  of  creative  literature.  It 
was  more  archetypal,  —  the  man  who  stood  for  the  idea 
itself,  for  the  pure  thought,  and  who  was  less  concerned 
with  its  expression.  Emerson's  estimate  of  Mr.  Alcott 
as  far  and  away  the  greatest  man  of  his  time  is  one  that 
the  ages  will  justify.  Dr.  Harris  and  Mr.  Sanborn  con- 
cur largely  with  this  judgment.  The  more  deeply  one 
studies  the  shaping,  all-determining  power  of  thought, 
the  more  does  one  come  to  say  with  Emerson,  "In 
majesty  Alcott  exceeds." 


CONCORD,   AND   ITS   FAMOUS   AUTHORS     147 

The  Alcott  family  were  a  living  illustration  of  the 
truth  that  poverty  cannot  greatly  hinder  the  higher 
progress  of  life  when  there  is  affluence  of  the  spirit. 
The  divinest  gifts  are  free  to  all. 

"  'T  is  heaven  alone  that  is  given  away,  — 
'Tis  only  God  may  be  had  for  the  asking." 

The  childhood  of  Louisa  Alcott  was  one  of  singular 
force  and  beauty.  "  I  go  to  sleep  repeating  poetry,  — 
I  know  a  good  deal,"  she  had  recorded  in  her  diary  at 
the  age  of  nine.  At  sixteen  she  began  to  handle  a 
pen,  and  she  received  five  dollars  for  a  story  in  the 
"Saturday  Gazette"  — which  went  to  buy  a  shawl  for 
her  mother.  In  these  early  years  she  heard  the  lectures 
by  George  William  Curtis;  Theodore  Parker  invited  her 
to  his  Sunday  evening  reunions,  where  she  met  Wendell 
Phillips,  Garrison,  Dr.  Hedge,  Mrs.  Howe,  the  Whip- 
pies,  and  Sumner.  She  heard  Mr.  Whipple's  lecture 
on  *' Courage," — which  revived  her  own.  She  heard 
a  reading  by  Fanny  Kemble  ;  and  passed  Sunday  at  the 
Emersons.  "  I  can't  do  much  with  my  hands,"  she 
writes  in  her  journal  about  this  time,  "so  I  will  use  my 
head  as  a  battering-ram  to  make  a  way  through  this 
rough-and-tumble  world."  She  records  the  time  in 
which  she  read  the  life  of  Charlotte  Bronte  and  says : 
"  Wonder  if  I  shall  ever  be  famous  enough  for  people 
to  care  to  read  my  story  and  struggles."  Of  Emerson 
she  writes,  too,  about  this  time :  "  Father  is  never  happy 
far  from  Emerson :  the  one  true  friend  who  loves, 
understands,  and  helps  him." 


148  BOSTON   DAYS 

All  these  experiences  and  thoughts  and  efforts 
brought  Miss  Alcott  up  to  her  twenty-fifth  year,  when 
the  family  removed  to  the  "  Orchard  House  "  destined 
to  be  their  first  permanent  home.  A  few  years  of  con- 
stant struggle  passed  by,  and  in  1867  Mr.  Niles,  of 
Roberts  Brothers,  asked  Miss  Alcott  to  write  a  girl's 
book,  and  this  was  the  initiative  of  the  great  success 
of  her  life,  "  Little  Women."  She  had  herself  no  idea 
of  the  magnetism,  the  vitality,  that  was  in  it.  "  We 
really  lived  most  of  it,"  she  said,  "  and  if  it  succeeds, 
that  will  be  the  reason  of  it." 

In  literary  Boston,  Miss  Alcott  was  a  unique  per- 
sonality. To  the  distinctively  literary  guild  she  is  even 
still  something  of  a  puzzle  in  that  for  one  thing  she 
left  no  "  correspondence,"  in  the  usual  sense  of  the 
author.  Her  letters  were  restricted  to  the  limits  of  her 
family  and  personal  friends,  rather  than  ranging  over 
epistolary  communings  with  others  of  her  guild.  Her 
life  left  her  little  leisure  after  the  duty  next  her  was 
done,  and  it  was  in  her  character  to  fulfil  faithfully  this 
"duty  lying  next"  before  making  any  excursions  into 
flowery  fields  beyond. 

Her  stories  are  transcriptions  rather  than  creations, 
and  if  the  Alcott  family  life  had  not  been  what  it  was, 
the  "  Little  Women  "  and  "  Little  Men  "  and  the  other 
delightful  stories  could  never  have  been  written.  For 
they  were  the  literary  flowering  of  outward  and  actual 
experiences.  Coming  directly  out  of  life,  Miss  Alcott's 
books  appeal  to  life.  It  was  the  spell  of  that  vital 
magnetism  of  which  she  held  the  secret.    All  this  time. 


CONCORD,  AND   ITS   FAMOUS   AUTHORS     149 

instead  of  giviog  herself  over  to  creative  visions,  Miss 
Alcott's  chief  concern  was  for  the  household  needs,  — 
the  coat  required  for  the  philosophic  father,  the  warm 
wrap  for  the  worn  and  gentle  mother,  the  hat  for 
"  Amy,"  the  gown  for  "  Beth,"  the  shoes  for  herself. 
The  demands  of  the  household  life  encompassed  her 
round  about.  The  marvel  is  that  she  could  have  writ- 
ten at  all,  only  —  and  this  clause  contains  the  key  and 
the  clue  —  only  that  this  was  a  household  of  idealism 
and  ideals,  and  thus  there  was  always  in  the  very 
atmosphere  that  spiritual  stimulus  which  makes  the 
hardest  things  in  life  easy  and  the  rough  places  smooth. 
"Visions,"  well  said  George  Eliot,  "are  the  creators 
and  feeders  of  the  world."  Some  of  the  more  arti- 
ficial writers  or  critics  of  writers  who  do  not  suffi- 
ciently relate  literature  to  life  assert  that  Miss  Alcott's 
stories  lack  this  or  that,  and  are  not  "  literature."  Yet 
her  books  are  translated  into  more  than  a  half  a  dozen 
languages  ;  they  are  widely  read  in  half  a  dozen  countries, 
and  her  name  is  a  household  word  where  the  names  of 
some  of  these  superfine  critics  will  never  be  dreamed  of 
or  heard. 

Miss  Alcott  appealed  to  the  higher  qualities  of  the 
spirit  in  our  common  humanity,  and  the  response  was 
universal.  She  had  an  infinite  capacity  for  aifection, 
great  love  for  the  people,  an  exquisite  tenderness,  keen, 
practical  good  sense,  and  a  fund  of  humor  that  enliv- 
ened daily  life.  Here  is  an  extract  from  a  letter  written 
to  her  mother  in  1868,  that  well  illustrates  these 
qualities  :  — 


150  BOSTON    DAYS 


"It's  clear  that  Minerva  Moody  [by  which  name  she 
called  herself]  is  getting  on  in  spite  of  many  downfalls, 
and  by  the  time  she  is  a  used-up  old  lady  of  seventy  or  so, 
she  may  finish  her  job  and  see  her  family  well  off.  A 
little  late  to  enjoy  much,  maybe,  but  I  guess  I  shall  turn 
in  for  my  last  long  sleep  with  more  content  in  spite  of  the 
mental  weariness  than  if  I  had  folded  my  hands  in  ele- 
gant idleness,  or  gone  into  fits  of  despair  because  things 
moved  so  slowly." 

Louisa  Alcott  was  indeed,  a  great  woman,  a  great 
character ;  and  her  literary  work,  extensive  and  valuable 
as  it  is,  was  still  but  one  of  her  many  forms  of  expres- 
sion. If  the  true  purpose  of  literature  is  to  invigorate 
and  to  elevate  life,  then,  indeed,  did  she  fulfil  this  high 
purpose.  She  was  a  thoroughly  noble  woman.  Not  of 
the  type  of  the  traditional  saint  or  martyr,  —  she  was 
very  human,  and  to  the  last  found  an  eager  and  impetu- 
ous temper,  needing  wise  control,  to  be  among  her 
marked  traits;  but  the  quality  of  her  life  was  noble. 
Never,  in  herself  or  in  others,  could  she  consent  to  the 
ungenerous  or  the  trivial.  The  entire  atmosphere  of  the 
Alcott  home  was  that  of  aspiration.  There  was  no 
poverty  of  the  spirit,  —  the  only  form  in  which  poverty 
is  hopeless. 

The  story  of  Louisa  Alcott's  life  is  one  of  the  most 
tender  and  touching  in  all  the  literature  of  biography. 
In  one  thing,  especially,  her  life  was  unique,  —  in  that 
it  was  one  of  the  widest  human  relatedness.  She  was 
always  the  friend,  the  helper,  the  caretaker.  By  taste 
and  temperament  her  father  was  detached  from  ordinary 


^ 


Louisa  M.  Alcott 


CONCORD,  AND   ITS   FAMOUS   AUTHORS     151 

affairs.  He  was  formed  for  all  high  and  beautiful 
things,  for  conversation,  for  philosophic  meditations. 
He  essayed  teaching.  Many  of  his  ideas  were  truly 
great  ones  in  educational  science,  yet  they  lacked  that 
power  to  relate  themselves  to  existing  conditions  which 
makes  such  ideas  of  immediate  value.  Mrs.  Alcott 
was  a  woman  of  remarkably  clear  mind,  fine  perception, 
lofty  ideals,  and  practical  tact.  The  Mays  were  all  ex- 
ecutive in  their  nature  and  Miss  Alcott  combined  many 
of  the  ancestral  traits  of  the  Alcotfcs  and  the  Mays. 
She  was  the  perfect  flower  of  a  mixed  heredity.  She 
could  do  anything  and  everything,  —  make  a  bonnet, 
wash  dishes,  cut  and  make  clothing,  nurse  the  sick, 
cook,  scrub  the  floor,  act  in  private  theatricals,  write 
verses,  be  the  life  of  a  social  assembly,  or  write  a  book 
of  which  fifty  thousand  copies  were  sold  before  it  was 
placed  on  the  market  at  all.  How  much  more  than  a 
'^  literary  woman  "  alone,  was  this  woman  of  literature, 
this  generous,  noble  spirit  who  came  to  this  world  not 
to  be  ministered  unto,  but  to  minister.  I  am  sure  that 
we  will  not  think  less  of  her  when,  after  unexpectedly 
receiving  $100  for  some  literary  work,  she  writes  in  her 
journal :  — 

"  So  the  pink  hyacinth  was  a  true  prophet,  and  I  went  to 
bed  a  happy  millionaire,  to  dream  of  flannel  petticoats 
for  my  blessed  mother,  paper  for  father,  a  new  dress  for 
May,  and  sleds  for  my  boys." 

Louisa  Alcott  lived  a  far  larger  life  than  the  mere 
"  literary "  one  of  the  traditional  author.     No  human 


152  BOSTON   DAYS 


need  appealed  to  her  in  vain.  She  was  a  great  favorite 
socially.  As  a  raconteur  she  had  hardly  a  rival.  Her 
dramatic  vividness  and  her  fund  of  humor  made  her 
the  most  inimitable  of  story-tellers.  And  her  sympathy 
was  as  strong  as  her  courage ;  and  these,  united  with  a 
hopeful  and  most  sunny  disposition,  made  her  a  most 
responsive  and  delightful  friend. 

Fame  has  its  inconveniences,  but  Miss  Alcott  was 
too  simple  and  sweet  and  genuine  not  to  enjoy  hers. 
So  much  love  was  poured  out  to  her  all  over  the  land 
that  she  could  not  fail  to  feel  its  spontaneity  and 
beauty.  "  I  asked  for  bread  and  got  a  stone  —  in  the 
shape  of  a  pedestal,"  she  would  say  laughingly,  but  the 
letters  and  gifts  and  adoration  of  her  vast  constituency 
touched  and  pleased  her  always. 

After  the  appearance  of  "  Little  Women  "  her  fortune 
seemed  assured ;  yet  success  is  a  thing  always  making 
and  never  made.  It  has  no  finality.  It  is  progressive, 
or  it  is  nothing.  So  with  Miss  Alcott  the  conflict  con- 
tinued. She  would  fly  from  Concord  and  shut  herself 
up  in  an  upper  floor  room  which  she  called  '^  Gamp's 
Garret,"  in  a  tall  house  in  some  retired  nook  in  Boston, 
where  for  weeks  she  would  write,  emerging  only  at  twi- 
light, until  the  book  in  hand  was  completed.  It  is  a 
most  curious  study  to  note  the  constant  interweaving 
of  the  ideal  and  the  practical  in  her  life. 

Mrs.  Alcott  had  a  natural  literary  gift,  as  her  beauti- 
ful letters  to  friends  and  her  diary  records  reveal.  But 
the  wife  of  an  idealist  must,  perforce,  often  refrain  from 
hitching  her  wagon  to  a  star  and  perhaps  drive  to  the 


CONCORD,  AND    ITS    FAMOUS   AUTHORS     153 

market-place  instead.  Yet  she  would  not  have  had 
him  otherwise.  There  are  other  qualities  which  create 
happiness  in  a  home  than  the  ability  to  grasp  the 
coin  of  the  realm.  It  cannot  be  claimed  for  Mr. 
Alcott  that  he  was  dowered  with  great  genius,  but 
rather  that  his  was  a  very  unique  personality.  It  was 
a  nature  singularly  pure,  sweet,  and  trustful,  with  no 
little  unconscious  but  never  offensive  egotism;  hos- 
pitable to  all  high  and  generous  thought,  but  almost 
totally  deficient  in  what  Emerson  calls  "the  useful, 
reconciling  talents." 

The  life  of  the  Alcott  family  is  indeed  a  unique 
chapter  in  New  England  history.  The  period  covered 
by  the  life  of  Bronson  Alcott  was  the  period  of  New 
England's  greatest  literary  activity,  the  period  in  which 
ideas  were  formed  that  helped  to  shape  the  destiny  of 
the  nation,  and  to  influence  all  the  future.  During 
Mr.  Alcott's  life  Garrison,  Sumner,  Emerson,  Theodore 
Parker,  Margaret  Fuller,  and  Lydia  Maria  Child  lived 
and  died.  Their  senior,  he  survived  them  all.  He  occu- 
pies an  unrivalled  place  in  history  and  literature.  Not, 
strictly  speaking,  a  man  of  letters,  he  had  affinities  for 
all  literature  and  scholarship.  Not  a  reformer,  he  had 
the  spirit  of  reform,  and  did  much  to  inspire  reformers. 

One  of  his  own  finest  expressions  is  in  this  para- 
graph :  — 

"  Thought  feeds,  clothes,  educates.  The  idealist  is  the 
capitalist  on  whose  resources  multitudes  are  maintained. 
The  idealist  gives  an  insight  into  life  deeper  than  that  of 
any  other  school  of  thought,  and  an  age  deficient  in  ideal- 
ism is  an  age  of  imperfect  and  superficial  attainment." 


154  BOSTON   DAYS 


The  graves  of  the  Alcotts  —  the  five  low  stones  mark- 
ing the  last  resting-place  of  the  father,  mother,  and 
daughters —  is  one  of  the  most  impressive  objects  in  the 
cemetery  of  Sleepy  Hollow.  Here  is  the  earthly  close 
of  a  household  life  that  represented  the  purest  and  most 
perpetual  form  of  the  ideal  life.  Here  they  lie  —  the 
low  stones  bearing  only  initials.  *'A.  B.  A.,  1799- 
1888,"  marks  the  grave  of  Amos  Bronson  Alcott,  whose 
watchword  of  life  was  indeed  that  "Thought  feeds, 
clothes,  educates."  "A.  M.  A.,  1800-1870,"  marks 
that  of  Abby  May  Alcott,  his  wife.  "  E.  S.  A.,"  1835- 
1858,"  "  M.  A.  N.,  1840-1879,"  and  "  L.  M.  A.,"  1832- 
1888,"  mark  the  graves  of  the  daughters,  Mrs.  Pratt, 
the  married  daughter,  being  buried  in  another  lot  by 
her  husband.  On  Miss  Alcott's  grave,  however,  as  a 
concession  to  public  interest,  is  a  little  slab  with 
^'Louisa  M.  Alcott"  inscribed  over  the  spot  where 
lies  all  that  was  mortal  of  one  of  the  noblest  of 
women.  Her  books  have  been  translated  into  half  a 
dozen  languages.  Their  influence  is  constantly  increas- 
ing. Wherever  high  thought  and  noble  purpose  and 
spirituality  of  aspirations  are  held  dear,  will  be  loved 
and  revered  the  name  of  Alcott,  made  forever  great,  in 
all  that  aids  spiritual  development,  by  the  father  and 
daughter  whose  lives  were  singularly  united  in  affection 
and  in  all  high  aims. 

Meantime  at  "  The  Wayside "  the  Hawthorne  life 
was  like  a  page  from  the  richly  illuminated  missals  in 
the  ancient  library  in  Siena.  In  Sophia  Hawthorne's 
diaries  we  find  such  passages  as  these :  — 


CONCORD,   AND   ITS   FAMOUS   AUTHORS     155 

"  September,  1860. 
"Julian  illuminated  till  tea  time  ;  and  after  tea  I  read 
to  both  bim  and  Rose  a  chapter  in  Matthew,  told  them 
about  Paul.  Rosebud  has  been  drawing  wonderfully  on 
the  blackboard  recognizable  portraits  of  Mr.  Benoch  and 
Julian.  .  .  .  We  all  met  at  the  Alcotts'  at  tea  time. 
Mr.  Alcott  was  sweet  and  benign  as  possible,  and  Mrs. 
Alcott  looked  like  Jupiter  Olympus.  .  .  .  Elizabeth  Hoar 
spent  the  whole  of  yesterday  morning  with  me.  We 
talked  Roman  and  Florentine  talk.  She  thought  our 
house  the  most  fascinating  of  mansions.  She  is  always 
full  of  Saint  Paul's  charity.  On  the  Roman  table  is  a  glass 
dish  of  exquisite  pond  lilies,  which  Una  brought  from  the 
river  ^this  morning ;  and  out  of  the  centre  of  the  lilies 
rose  a  tall  glass  of  superb  cardinal  flowers." 

And  again  :  — 

"  January,  1862. 
"  Mr.  Thoreau  died  this  morning.  The  funeral  services 
were  in  the  church.  Mr.  Emerson  spoke.  Mr.  Alcott 
read  from  Mr.  Thoreau's  writings.  The  body  was  in  the 
vestibule  covered  with  wild  flowers.  We  went  to  the 
grave.  Thence  my  husband  and  I  walked  to  the  old 
Manse  and  Monument.  Then  I  went  to  see  Annie  Fields 
at  Mr.  Emerson's.  ...  I  read  (Christ  the  Spirit).  I 
read  about  Alchemy  and  Swedenborg." 

The  Hawthornes  have  a  most  interesting  history. 
Jnlian  Hawthorne,  in  his  biography  of  his  parents,  has 
by  no  means  "  spoiled  a  story  for  relation's  sake,"  but 
has  related  the  strange  traits  of  his  ancestors.  Witch- 
haunted  Salem  produced  much  uncanny  living.  The 
great  romancer  had  his  peculiarities,  as  is  well  known, 
though  these  were  largely  counteracted  by  his  wife,  — 


156  BOSTON   DAYS 


gentle,  wise,  sweet  Sophia  Peabody,  who  came  of  a 
family  eminently  sane  and  harmoniously  attuned.  Mrs. 
Hawthorne  was  even  more  than  the  perfect  wife ;  she 
was  the  heaven-appointed  guardian  of  her  husband's 
genius,  and  it  is  no  exaggeration  to  say  that  but  for  her 
exquisite  qualities  the  marvellous  romances  of  Haw- 
thorne, which  are  the  very  inflorescence  of  American 
literature,  would  never  have  been  written.  The  genius 
of  Hawthorne  was  of  too  subtle  and  delicate  a  nature 
to  have  flourished  in  an  uncongenial  atmosphere,  and  it 
was  his  wife  who  made  possible  the  most  perfect  condi- 
tions for  his  art.  In  1844  she  wrote  in  a  private  letter 
to  her  sister  of  Hawthorne's  delicacy  of  genius :  — 

"  He  waits  upon  the  light  in  such  a  purely  simple  way 
that  I  do  not  wonder  at  the  perfection  of  each  of  his 
stories.  Of  several  sketches  first  one  and  then  another 
came  up  to  be  clothed  upon  with  language  after  their  own 
will  and  pleasure.  It  is  real  inspiration,  and  few  are 
reverent  and  patient  enough  to  wait  for  it  as  he  does.  I 
think  it  is  in  this  way  that  he  comes  to  be  so  void  of 
extravagance  in  his  style  and  material.  He  does  not 
meddle  with  the  clear,  true  picture  that  is  painted  on  his 
mind." 

Nathaniel  and  Sophia  (Peabody)  Hawthorne  had 
three  children,  —  Una,  Julian,  and  Rose.  The  elder 
daughter  was  gifted  but  unbalanced,  and  she  died  in 
London  at  a  comparatively  early  age.  Julian  Haw- 
thorne began  early  to  make  a  name  for  himself  in 
literature,  and  his  work  is  constantly  before  the  public. 
Rose   became  the  wife    of   George    Parsons  Lathrop, 


CONCORD,   AND   ITS   FAMOUS   AUTHORS     157 

a  writer  of  ability  who  was  truly  a  son  to  the  elder 
Hawthorne  in  the  sense  of  being  his  best  interpreter. 
Nothing  in  this  line  has  ever  equalled  Mr.  Lathrop's 
^'  Study  of  Hawthorne/'  which  is  fairly  a  hand-book, 
indispensable  to  the  lover  of  his  great  romances.  Rose 
Hawthorne  was  a  great  beauty  as  well  as  a  woman  of 
charming  gifts  and  most  winning  personality,  and  she 
still  retains  much  of  that  beauty  of  coloring  and  win- 
some grace,  her  Titian  gold  hair,  and  beauty  of 
expression. 

Mrs.  Lathrop  has  the  literary  gift  of  her  family,  and 
to  fugitive  magazine  work  she  has  added  a  book 
("  Memories  of  Hawthorne  "),  in  which  she  has  given 
to  the  world  revelations  of  her  father  that  no  one  else 
could  have  given,  and  which  are  indispensable  to  a 
clearer  understanding  of  the  man  who  is  unquestionably 
the  greatest  romancist  in  the  English  tongue.  Mrs. 
Lathrop  had  a  store  of  letters  to  Jraw  upon,  —  letters 
written  by  her  mother  and  her  aunt,  the  celebrated 
Elizabeth  Peabody  (who  in  her  later  years  was 
called  "  The  Grandmother  of  Boston "),  to  a  large 
number  of  the  most  noted  people  of  their  day. 
The  Peabodys  were  a  genial  and  cordial  race,  with 
literature,  art,  and  social  intercourse  as  "  the  three 
gracious  deities "  of  their  home,  with  the  daughters 
all  attractive  yet  diflPerent,  —  Elizabeth  "profoundly 
interesting,"  Mary  considered  to  be  exceptionally 
"brilliant,"  and  Sophia  "lovely."  On  their  marriage 
Nathaniel  Hawthorne  and  Sophia  Peabody  took  up 
their  residence  in  the  *'  Old  Manse,"  forever  immor- 


158  BOSTON   DAYS 


talized  in  Mr.  Hawthorne's  "  Mosses."  And  what  days 
are  those  revealed  in  Sophia  Hawthorne's  letters  from 
the  Old  Manse! — when  Emerson  comes,  "with  his 
sunrise  smile,  "  Ellery  Channing,  "  radiating  light,"  and 
Elizabeth  Hoar,  "  with  spirit  voice  and  tread."  Surely 
a  precious  heritage  were  these  letters  to  Rose  Haw- 
thorne Lathrop,  and  exquisitely  has  she  used  them  in 
her  fascinating  volume. 

The  Hawthorne  family  are  a  marked  example  of  the 
curious  persistence  of  individuality,  which  in  some  of 
them  has  been  so  strong  as  only  to  be  termed  eccen- 
tricity. Madam  Hawthorne,  the  mother  of  the  great 
romancist,  betook  herself  to  her  own  room  on  the  upper 
floor  of  her  Salem  house  and  did  not  descend  the  stairs 
again  for  two  years.  She  dressed  exclusively  in  white 
and  isolated  herself  from  the  world.  A  sister  of 
Nathaniel  Hawthorne  carried  out  her  intense  individu- 
ality through  life,  and  he,  too,  was  a  man  who  walked 
apart  from  the  world.  He  had  the  isolation  of  his 
temperament  as  well  as  that  of  his  rare  and  delicate 
genius.     His  life  appears  like  a  spiritual  drama. 

As  the  scenes  change,  from  the  night  in  Salem, 
when  Hawthorne  returned  to  his  home  after  his  dis- 
missal from  the  Custom  House,  discouraged,  weary, 
sad,  and  his  wife  exclaimed  cheerfully,  "  Now  you  can 
write  your  book ;  how  fortunate  !  "  —  from  that  scene, 
which  was  the  initiatory  phase  of  his  immortal  ro- 
mance, "  The  Scarlet  Letter,"  through  the  vicissitudes 
of  their  life  in  Concord,  in  the  Berkshire  hills,  and  then 
in  Liverpool  and  London  and  Paris  and  Italy,  —  the 


CONCORD,   AND   ITS   FAMOUS   AUTHORS     159 

panorama  is  one  of  singular  interest  and  charm.  It  has 
been  left  for  later  years  more  fully  to  reveal  the  exqui- 
site nature  and  the  high  gifts  of  Sophia  Hawthorne.  As 
is  well  known,  she  was  one  of  three  gifted  sisters,  — 
the  others  being  Mary,  who  married  Horace  Mann,  and 
Elizabeth  Peabody,  the  great  philanthropist  and  thinker, 
who  died  unmarried  at  the  age  of  ninety-four.  Mrs. 
Hawthorne  herself  had  the  literary  gift,  and  had  she  fol- 
lowed her  clue  she,  too,  would  have  been  an  author  of 
distinction.    As  it  was,  she  might  well  have  said :  — 

"  My  life  is  the  poem  that  I  would  have  writ ; 
But  I  could  not  both  live  and  utter  it." 

In  December  of  1842  Mrs.  Hawthorne  writes :  ^  — 

"My  dear  Mart, — I  hoped  I  should  see  you  again 
before  I  came  home  to  our  Paradise.  I  intended  to  give 
you  a  concise  history  of  my  Elysian  life.  Soon  after  we 
returned  my  dear  lord  began  to  write  in  earnest,  and  then 
commenced  my  leisure,  because  till  we  meet  at  dinner,  I 
do  not  see  him.  I  did  not  touch  a  needle  all  summer  and 
far  into  the  autumn,  i\Ir.  Hawthorne  not  letting  me  have 
a  needle  or  a  pen  in  my  hand.  We  were  interrupted  by 
no  one,  except  a  short  call  now  and  then  from  Elizabeth 
Hoar,  who  can  hardly  be  called  an  earthly  inhabitant; 
and  Mr.  Emerson,  whose  face  pictured  the  promised  land 
(which  we  were  then  enjoying),  and  intruded  no  more  than 
a  sunset  or  a  rich  warble  from  a  bird.  One  evening,  two 
days  after  our  arrival  at  the  Old  Manse,  George  Hillard 
and  Henry  Cleveland  appeared  for  fifteen  minutes  on 
their  way  to  Niagara  Falls,  and  were  thrown  into  rap- 
tures by  the  embowering  flowers  and  the  dear  old  house 

1  "  Memoirs  of  Hawthorne,"  by  Rose  Hawthorne  Lathrop. 


160  BOSTON   DAYS 


they  adorned,  and  the  pictures  of  Holy  Mothers  mild  on 
the  walls,  and  Mr.  Hawthorne's  study  and  the  noble 
avenue.  We  forgave  them  their  appearance  here  because 
they  were  gone  as  soon  as  they  had  come,  and  we  felt  very 
hospitable.  We  wandered  down  to  our  sweet  sleepy  river, 
and  it  was  so  silent  all  around  us  and  so  solitary  that  we 
seemed  the  only  persons  living.  We  sat  beneath  our 
stately  trees,  and  felt  as  if  we  were  the  rightful  owners 
of  the  old  abbey  which  had  descended  to  us  from  a  long 
line.  The  tree-tops  waved  a  welcome,  and  rustled  their 
thousand  leaves  like  books  over  our  heads.  But  the 
bloom  and  fragrance  of  nature  had  become  secondary  to 
us,  though  we  were  lovers  of  it." 

Hawthorne  died  (in  May,  1864)  in  New  Hampshire, 
as  will  be  remembered  ;  and  when  his  body  was  brought 
home  for  burial  the  casket  was  carried  directly  to  the 
church.  The  townspeople  transformed  the  entire  inte- 
rior into  a  bower  of  bloom  with  apple  blossoms,  so  that 
when  Mrs.  Hawthorne  entered  she  said  it  looked  to  her 
like  a  heavenly  festival. 

In  Mr.  Longfellow's  commemorative  poem  on  Haw- 
thorne he  thus  pictures  the  scene :  — 

"The  lovely  town  was  white  with  apple-blooms, 
And  the  great  elms  overhead 
Dark  shadows  wove  on  their  aerial  looms 
Shot  through  with  golden  thread." 

The  burial  of  Hawthorne,  as  pictured  by  Mrs.  Whipple, 
one  of  his  nearest  friends,  was  a  beautiful  and  pathetic 
scene.  The  casket  was  taken  to  the  Concord  Church, 
and  there  the  Saturday  Club  came  to  pay  the  last  trib- 
ute of  respect.     Longfellow,  Agassiz,  Emerson,  Holmes, 


CONCORD,   AND   ITS   FAMOUS   AUTHORS     l6l 

Whipple,  Lowell,  Peirce,  and  Fields  sat  side  by  side. 
As  the  simple  services  closed,  they  all,  moved  by  simul- 
taneous accord,  rose  and  bent  for  a  last  look  above  the 
dead  friend.  The  little  concourse  of  people  all  vralked 
to  Sleepy  Hollow.  Only  one  carriage,  that  bearing 
Mrs.  Hawthorne,  was  in  the  procession.  As  Agassiz 
entered  the  cemetery  he  stopped  and  gathered  a  little 
bunch  of  violets,  which  he  dropped  on  to  the  casket  as 
it  was  being  lowered,  and  each  member  of  the  Saturday 
Club  cast  into  the  open  grave  a  spray  of  arhor  vltcB. 
At  this  time  Mr.  Longfellow  thus  wrote  to  Mrs. 
Hawthorne :  ^  — 

June,  1864. 

Dear  Mrs.  Hawthorne,  —  I  have  long  been  wishing 
to  write  to  you,  to  thank  you  for  your  kind  remembrance, 
but  I  had  not  the  heart  to  do  it.  There  are  some  things 
that  one  cannot  say ;  and  I  hardly  need  tell  you  how 
much  I  value  your  gift,  and  how  often  I  shall  look  at  the 
familiar  name  on  the  blank  leaf,  —  a  name  which,  more 
than  any  other,  links  me  to  my  youth. 

I  have  written  a  few  lines  trying  to  express  the  impres- 
sions of  May  23rd,  and  I  venture  to  send  you  a  copy  of 
them.  I  had  rather  no  one  should  see  them  but  yourself, 
as  I  have  also  sent  them  to  Mr.  Fields  for  the  "  Atlantic." 
I  feel  how  imperfect  and  inadequate  they  are ;  but  I  trust 
you  will  pardon  their  deficiencies  for  the  love  I  bear  his 
memory.  More  than  ever  I  now  regret  that  I  postponed 
from  day  to  day  coming  to  see  you  in  Concord,  and  that 
at  last  I  should  have  seen  your  house  only  on  the  outside ! 

With  deepest  sympathy,  yours  truly, 

Henry  W.  Longfellow. 
1  "  Life  of  H.  W.  Longfellow,"  by  his  brother. 


162  BOSTON   DAYS 


Mrs.  Hawthorne  wrote  in  reply :  ^  — 

Concord,  July  24,  1864. 

My  dear  Mr.  Longfellow,  —  Your  kind  note  and 
profoundly  affecting  poem  moved  me  so  much  that  it  has 
been  very  difficult  for  me  to  reply.  This  you  will  entirely 
understand.  We  are  both  now  entered  fully  into  the 
worship  of  sorrow,  and  comprehend  all  its  conditions. 

It  is  impossible  for  me  to  express  the  emotion  with 
which  I  saw  you,  —  on  that  wonderful  day,  that  was 
made  to  seem  to  me  a  festival  of  life,  —  at  the  head  of  the 
line  of  loving  friends,  going  up  to  the  Mount  of  Vision. 
I  have  not  seen  you  since  the  dread  epoch  of  God's  mys- 
terious dispensation  to  you.  As  it  was,  I  did  not  see  your 
face,  but  only  the  form  and  the  white  hair  waving  in  the 
wind.  I  thought  I  had  always  sympathized  with  you; 
but  that  day  I  first  knew  what  you  had  suffered.  I  under- 
stood the  depths  and  heights  of  bereavement.  Remember- 
ing also  my  husband's  most  affectionate  regard  for  you,  it 
was  very  sweet  and  grateful  to  see  you  there.  I  earnestly 
wished  that  I  could  convey  to  you  my  sense  of  these 
things. 

My  dear  Mr.  Longfellow,  the  last  Sunday  Mr.  Haw- 
thorne was  at  home,  he  was  sitting  in  this  little  library  with 
Julian;  and  I,  in  another  room,  suddenly  heard  J.  begin 
to  read  aloud  a  passage  from  "  Evangeline "  beginning 

"  Suddenly,  as  if  arrested  by  fear  or  a  feeling  of  wonder," 

and  ending  with  the  end  of  the  poem.  It  broke  on  the 
perfect  silence  with  singular  power.  At  the  close,  Mr. 
Hawthorne  said,  "  I  like  that,"  —  and  then  there  was  again 
silence.  We  have  often  recalled  that  incident  since.  With 
Evangeline  we  have  been  enabled  to  murmur,  ''Father,  I 

1  "  Life  of  H.  W,  Longfellow,"  by  his  brother. 


CONCORD,  AND   ITS   FAMOUS  AUTHORS     l63 

thank  you."  I  suppose  you  know  how  very  much  Mr. 
Hawthorne  loved  this  poem ;  and  it  was  remarkable  that 
Julian  should  happen  to  open  to  it  on  that  last  day  he 
saw  his  father,  and  read  that  particular  passage,  with  no 
forethought. 

The  poem  that  you  send  me  has  such  an  Eolian  deli- 
cacy, sweetness,  and  pathos,  that  it  seems  a  strain  of  music 
rather  than  written  words.  It  has  in  an  eminent  degree 
the  unbroken  melody  of  your  verse.  The  picture  of  the 
scene  you  have  now  made  immortal. 

"  Its  monument  shall  be  your  gentle  verse." 

I  cannot  suppose  that  you  would  wish,  now  that  All  is 
gone,  to  come  to  this  house,  no  longer  a  palace  since  the 
king  has  left  it.  But  if  you  are  ever  in  Concord,  and 
would  not  feel  too  much  saddened  to  enter  these  deserted 
halls,  I  should  most  gladly  welcome  you  as  one  of  his 
chief  friends,  tenderly  valued.  His  visits  to  you  in  Cam- 
bridge used  to  be  a  great  enjoyment  to  him.  He  always 
spoke  of  them  as  peculiarly  agreeable.  For  the  last  years 
he  had  stood  reverent,  silent,  and  appalled  before  your 
unspeakable  sorrow. 

With  great  regard,  sincerely  yours, 

Sophia  Hawthorne. 

Emerson  thus  wrote  to  Mrs.  Hawthorne :  — 

"July,  1864. 

....  ''The  very  selection  of  his  images  proves  Behmen 
poet  as  well  as  saint,  yet  a  saint  first,  and  poet  through 
sanctity.  .  .   . 

"  I  have  had  my  own  pain  in  the  loss  of  your  husband. 
He  was  always  a  mine  of  hope  to  me,  and  I  promised  my- 
self a  rich  future  in  achieving  it  some  day  when  we  should 


164  BOSTON  DAYS 


both  be  less  engaged  to  tyrannical  studies,  and  unreserved 
intercourse  with  him.  T  thought  I  could  well  wait  his 
time  and  mine  for  what  was  so  well  worth  waiting.  And 
as  he  always  appeared  to  me  superior  to  his  own  perform- 
ances I  counted  this  yet  untold  force  an  insurance  of  a 
long  life.   .  .  . 

"  Ralph  Waldo  Emerson." 

After  Hawthorne's  death  his  family  returned  to 
London,  where  Mrs.  Hawthorne  and  her  elder  daughter, 
Una,  died.  The  only  son,  Julian  Hawthorne,  returned 
to  his  own  country  and  has  made  a  name  in  literature 
which  is  being  perpetuated  by  the  genius  of  his  daughter 
Hildegarde,  who,  as  a  poet  and  story- writer,  is  worthy  her 
distinguished  ancestry.  Mrs.  Lathrop  (Rose  Hawthorne) 
embraced  the  Catholic  faith,  in  which  she  found  a  rap- 
ture of  comfort  and  of  leading,  and,  under  the  name  of 
a  rMigieuse,  consecrates  her  life  to  the  care  of  the  suf- 
fering, finding  in  her  self-abnegation  the  sublimest 
sweetness  and  joy. 

The  dream  of  Mr.  Alcott  that  an  Academe  might  be 
established  for  conversational  teaching  of  philosophy 
and  literature  fulfilled  itself,  as  dreams  have,  indeed,  a 
way  of  doing,  in  the  establishment  of  the  School  of 
Philosophy  in  Concord,  in  1878,  which  continued  its 
summer  sessions  into  the  middle  eighties,  closing  only 
with  the  close  of  Mr.  Alcott's  life.  The  story  of  this 
school  is  one  of  the  inimitable  chapters  of  New  Eng- 
land history.  When  this  nebulous  idea  that  had  so 
long  haunted  the  platonic  brain  of  Mr.  Alcott  assumed 
actual  form  of  realization,  it  was  to  him  the  opening  of 


CONCORD,  AND  ITS   FAMOUS   AUTHORS     l65 

a  new  heaven,  for  his  sole  idea  of  a  terrestrial  Paradise 
was  that  of  conversation  "  where  congregations  ne'er 
break  up."  His  choice  circle  of  friends  —  Mr.  Sanborn, 
Dr.  William  T.  Harris,  and  others  —  sympathized  in  his 
vision,  and  longed  to  gratify  him  by  its  realization.  Dr. 
Harris  had  a  little  before  resigned  his  important  work 
in  St.  Louis  as  the  Superintendent  of  City  Schools 
and  lecturer  at  Washington  University,  to  go  to 
Concord  and  live  near  Emerson  and  Alcott  as  friend 
and  neighbor  during  the  remainder  of  their  lives,  and 
had  established  his  family  in  the  "Orchard  House" 
formerly  occupied  by  the  Alcotts.  Here  was  the 
chamber  where  Louisa  Alcott's  "  Little  Women  "  was 
written ;  here  the  scenes  haunted  by  the  "  Little 
Women  "  and  "  Little  Men ; "  here  the  chamber  occupied 
by  May  Alcott  with  her  sketches  of  Flaxman's  graceful 
figures,  that  were  sacredly  preserved  by  Dr.  Harris,  as 
they  covered  doors,  panels,  window-sills,  and  casings. 
Next  to  the  Alcott  home  on  the  Lexington  road,  was 
the  house  which  was  formerly  the  home  of  Nathaniel 
Hawthorne,  "  The  Wayside,"  and  which  was  then 
occupied  by  his  daughter  and  son-in-law,  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
George  Parsons  Lathrop. 

At  this  period  Miss  Alcott  was  much  in  Boston, 
engaged  in  her  literary  work,  and  Mr.  Alcott  made  his 
home  with  his  married  daughter,  Mrs.  Pratt,  who  lived 
in  another  part  of  Concord.  Mr.  Sanborn,  Dr.  Harris, 
Emerson,  Prof  Benjamin  Peirce,  and  Mrs.  Cheney  joined 
in  the  purpose  to  initiate  Mr.  Alcott's  cherished  ideal, 
and  the  first  session  of  the  Concord  School  of  Philoso- 


166  BOSTON   DAYS 


phy  opened  in  the  Orchard  House  on  July  15,  1879, 
the  programme  including  a  Salutatory  from  Mr.  Alcott 
and  a  course  of  ten  lectures  on  "  The  Power  of  Per- 
sonality ; "  ten  by  Dr.  Harris  on  "  Philosophic  Know- 
ing ; "  a  course  by  Mrs.  Cheney  on  "  Art ; "  by  Dr. 
H.  K.  Jones  on  "  Platonic  Philosophy  ; "  by  David  A. 
Wasson  on  "  Social  Genesis  and  Texture  ;  "  by  Professor 
Peirce  on  "  Ideality  in  Science ;  "  by  Colonel  Higginson 
on  "  American  Literature ; "  Dr.  Thomas  Davidson  on 
the  "  History  of  Athens ; "  one  lecture  from  Emerson 
on  "  Memory ; "  a  course  of  three  by  Mr.  Sanborn  on 
"Social  Science;"  one  by  Rev.  Dr.  Bartol  on  ^^Educa- 
tion ; "  and  readings  from  "  Thoreau's  Manuscripts  "  by 
Mr.  Harrison  G.  O.  Blake. 

The  success  of  these  conferences  was  so  assured  that 
the  next  year  saw  the  building  of  the  little  Hillside 
Chapel  in  the  Orchard  House  grounds,  and  the  school 
opened  with  the  following  programme,  which  is  pre- 
sented as  typical  of  those  of  all  the  succeeding 
summers :  — 

Mr.  A.  Bronson  Alcott.  — Five  Lectures  on  Mysticism : 
1.  St.  John  the  Evangelist.  2.  Plotinns.  3.  Tauler  and 
Eckhart.  4.  Behmen.  5.  Swedenborg.  Mr.  Alcott  also 
delivered  the  Salutatory  and  Valedictory. 

Dr.  H.  K.  Jones.  —  Five  Lectures  on  The  Platonic  Philosophy, 
and  five  on  Platonism  in  its  Relation  to  Modern  Civiliza- 
tion :  1.  Platonic  Philosophy  ;  Cosmologic  and  Theologic 
Outlines.  2.  The  Platonic  Psychology  ;  The  Daemon  of 
Socrates.  3.  The  Two  Worlds,  and  the  Twofold  Con- 
sciousness ;  The  Sensible  and  the  Intelligible.  4.  The  State 
and  Church  ;  Their  Eelations  and  Correlations.  5.  The 
Eternity   of  the  Soul,  and  its   Pre-existence.     6.   The  Im- 


CONCORD,  AND   ITS   FAMOUS   AUTHORS     l67 

mortality  and  the  Mortality  of  the  Soul;  Personality  and 
Individuality ;  Metempsychosis.  7.  The  Psychic  Body  and 
the  Material  Body  of  Man.  8.  Education  and  Discipline  of 
Man  ;  The  Uses  of  the  World  we  live  in.  9.  The  Philosophy 
of  Law.  The  Philosophy  of  Prayer,  and  the  '*  Prayer 
Gauge." 

Dr.  William  T.  Harris.  —  Five  Lectures  on  Speculative  Phil- 
osophy, namely:  —  1.  Philosophic  Knowing.  2.  Philo- 
sophic First  Principles.  3.  Philosophy  and  Immortality. 
4.  Philosophy  and  Religion.  5.  Philosophy  and  Art.  — 
Five  Lectures  on  the  History  of  Philosophy,  namely  : 
1.  Plato.     2.  Aristotle.     3.  Kant.     4.  Fichte.     5.  Hegel. 

Rev.  John  S.  Kednet,  D.D.  — Four  Lectures  on  the  Philosophy 
of  the  Beautiful  and  Sublime. 

Mr.  Denton  J.  Snider.  —  Five  Lectures  on  Shakspeare:  1.  Phil- 
osophy of  Shakspearian  Criticism.  2.  The  Shakspearian 
World.  3.  Principles  of  Characterization  in  Shakspeare. 
4.  Organism  of  the  Individual  Drama.  5.  Organism  of  the 
Universal  Drama. 

Rev.  William  H.  Channing.  —  Four  lectures  on  Oriental  and 
Mystical  Philosophy  :  1.  Historical  Mysticism.  2.  Man's 
Fourfold  Being.    3.  True  Buddhism.    4.  Modern  Pessimism. 

Mrs.  Ednah  D.  Cheney.  —  1.  Color.     2.  Early  American  Art. 

Mrs.  Julia  Ward  Howe.  —  Modern  Society. 

Mr.  John  Albee.  —  1.  Figurative  Language.  2.  The  Literary 
Art. 

Mr.  F.  B.  Sanborn.  —  The  Philosophy  of  Charity. 

Dr.  Elisha  Mulford.  —  1.  The  Personality  of  God.  2.  Prece- 
dent Relations  of  Religion  and  Philosophy  to  Christianity. 

Mr.  Harrison  G.  O.  Blake.  —  Readings  from  Thoreau's 
Manuscripts. 

Rev.  Dr.  Cyrus  A.  Bartol.  —  God  in  Nature. 

Rev.  Dr.  Andrew  P.  Peabody.  —  Conscience  and  Consciousness. 

Mr.  Emerson.  —  Aristocracy. 

Rev.  Dr.  Frederic  H.  Hedge.  —  Ghosts  and  Ghost-seeing. 

Mr.  David  A.  Wasson. — 1.  Philosophy  of  History.  2.  The 
Same. 


168  BOSTON   DAYS 


The  Faculty  was  composed  of  Mr.  A.  Bronson 
Alcott,  Dean,  Mr.  Emery,  Director,  and  Mr.  F.  B. 
Sanborn,  Secretary.  These  three,  with  Dr.  William 
T.  Harris,  Dr.  H.  K.  Jones,  Miss  Peabody,  Mrs. 
Cheney,  Mr.  Snider,  Dr.  Kedney,  Dr.  Holland,  or  any 
of  these  and  other  lecturers  who  might  be  in  Concord, 
constituted  the  Faculty  for  the  time  being ;  but  the 
permanent  and  active  members  were  Mr.  Alcott,  Dr. 
Harris,  Mr.  Emery,  and  Mr.  Sanborn.  The  aim  was, 
as  Mr.  Sanborn  stated,  "to  bring  together  a  few  of 
those  persons  who,  in  America,  have  pursued,  or  desire 
to  pursue,  the  paths  of  speculative  philosophy ;  to  en- 
courage these  students  and  professors  to  communicate 
with  each  other  what  they  have  learned  and  meditated ; 
and  to  illustrate,  by  a  constant  reference  to  poetry  and 
the  higher  literature,  those  ideas  which  philosophy 
presents." 

The  little  chapel  was  almost  as  primitive  as  the 
groves  where  Plato  taught.  There  were  wide  spaces 
between  the  rough  boards  of  the  walls  where  creep- 
ing vines  and  greenery  found  hospitable  entrance  and 
twined  their  way  in  with  a  decorative  effect.  The 
busts  of  Plato,  Pestalozzi,  Ralph  Waldo  Emerson, 
and  A.  Bronson  Alcott  were  placed  about,  and  a  mask 
of  Anaxagoras  hung  upon  the  wall,  while  over  the 
mantel  was  an  engraving  of  the  "  School  of  Athens." 
Other  engravings  and  photographs,  which  were  changed 
from  time  to  time,  added  to  the  classic  attractions. 
Upon  a  low  platform  in  a  wide  alcove  stood  the  table 
at  which  the   lecturers  placed  themselves,  and   camp 


CONCORD,  AND   ITS   FAMOUS   AUTHORS     I69 

chairs,  arranged  rather  for  comfort  than  in  geometrical 
figures,  furnished  the  seats  of  the  audience. 

The  accessibility  of  the  hillside  in  its  alluring  shade, 
from  the  chapel,  in  which  the  mercury  not  un frequently 
stood  at  ninety  degrees,  — without  in  the  least  disturbing 
the  eloquence  of  the  philosophers,  —  enabled  the  less 
philosophic  mind  occasionally  to  escape  through  the 
open  door  and  enjoy  a  brief  interlude  in  which  to  pull 
himself  together  for  further  draughts  of  knowledge  from 
the  sages.  During  a  five  hours'  discourse  upon  the 
"  Genesis  of  the  Maya,"  or  of  "  Reminiscence  as  Related 
to  the  Pre-existence  of  the  Soul,"  there  was,  to  the 
unregenerate  mind  not  fully  initiated,  a  certain  mundane 
joy  in  a  brief  vacation  from  these  high  themes,  and  it 
was  found  that  on  returning  it  was  possible  to  recognize 
the  point  to  which  the  lecturer  had  conducted  his 
hearers  with  no  perceptible  loss  of  its  deep  significance. 

In  these  days  Dr.  Bartol  was  a  prominent  figure,  and 
his  essays  (not  unfrequently  more  than  three  hours  in 
length),  were  delivered  in  a  peculiar  chanting  tone, 
with  a  rhythmic  efibct  to  which  his  fragile  body  corre- 
ponded,  swaying  with  every  inflection  and  emphasis  like 
a  leaf  fluttering  in  the  breeze.  Mr.  Alcott  usually  went 
to  sleep  during  these  incantations,  and  Miss  Elizabeth 
Peabody,  who  always  sat  faithfully  through  every  half 
day  of  the  four  to  six  weeks'  sessions,  also  relapsed,  at 
intervals,  into  apparent  slumber,  from  which  she  would 
suddenly  arouse  herself  with  a  movement  that  sent  flying 
in  various  directions  her  bag,  handkerchief,  note-books, 
pencil,  and  all  her  various  belongings  which  those  of 


170  BOSTON  DAYS 

the  younger  and  non-distinguished  persons  sitting  near 
considered  it  an  honor  to  scramble  about  and  pick  up 
for  her.  \¥hen  it  came  to  the  discussion  of  the  theme, 
however,  it  always  turned  out  that  Miss  Peabody,  half- 
blind,  nearly  deaf,  and  wholly  asleep,  had  yet  heard 
everything  that  was  said  to  much  better  advantage  than 
any  one  else  in  the  audience. 

Dr.  William  T.  Harris,  the  present  National  Com- 
missioner of  Education,  whose  eminence  as  a  scholar 
and  a  philosophic  thinker  has  conferred  new  exaltation 
and  dignity  on  his  high  office,  had  achieved,  even  at  this 
time,  a  wide  recognition  and  following  both  in  Europe 
and  in  our  own  country,  as  the  leading  exponent  of 
Hegelian  philosophy  and  the  founder  and  editor  of  a 
journal  not  less  unique  than  "  The  Dial/'  a  periodical 
that  made  itself  a  pre-eminent  aid  to  scholarly  culture 
and  the  finest  insight,  —  ^'^  The  Journal  of  Speculative 
Philosophy."  This  magazine  made  a  profound  impress 
upon  the  thought  of  the  day.  Devoted  essentially  to 
philosophic  thought,  it  also  contained  some  of  the 
choicest  literary  criticism  of  the  time.  The  reputation 
of  Dr.  Harris  had  preceded  him,  and  for  some  years 
before  the  establishment  of  the  School  of  Philosophy, 
he  had  been  from  time  to  time  invited  to  lecture  in 
Boston,  where  he  was  always  received  with  ardent  friend- 
ship and  joyful  recognition.  Of  the  eminent  character 
of  the  services  of  Dr.  Harris,  Dr.  Cyrus  Northrop, 
President  of  the  University  of  Minnesota,  in  his  address 
before  the  Yale  Bicentennial  Celebration  (October  22, 
1901)  said:  — 


CONCORD,  AND   ITS   FAMOUS   AUTHORS     171 

*'  He  is  a  philosopher.  He  founded  aad  has  edited  the 
'  Journal  of  Speculative  Philosophy,'  the  first  journal  of 
the  kind  in  the  English  language,  if  the  language  of 
philosophy  can  properly  be  called  English ;  and  yet  he  did 
not  lose  his  common  sense,  his  clear  way  of  stating  things, 
his  power  of  suggesting  new  thoughts  and  plans  to 
teachers  and  thus  getting  them  out  of  the  ruts,  nor  his 
ability  to  awaken  enthusiasm  in  teachers  for  their  work. 
Above  the  roar  of  the  mighty  flood  of  so-called  pedagogical 
learning  with  which  our  country  is  being  inundated,  the 
clear  good  sense  and  philosophical  suggestions  of  Mr. 
Harris  never  fail  to  reach  the  understanding  of  teachers 
and  to  prove  most  helpful  to  them.  His  views  on  educa- 
tion are  always  sound,  and  the  great  multitude  who 
listen  to  his  words  and  in  turn  repeat  them  in  substance 
to  a  still  greater  multitude,  make  his  influence  on  the 
education  of  the  people  beyond  calculation.  Let  him  be 
honored  as  he  deserves  for  what  he  has  done  and  what  he 
is  doing.  The  government  at  Washington  honored  itself 
when  it  made  Wm.  T.  Harris  Commissioner  of  Education, 
and  whatever  the  party  in  power  he  should  be  retained 
in  his  present  oflSce  as  long  as  he  is  able  to  serve  the 
cause  of  education  as  well  as  he  has  done  in  the  past." 

Dr.  Harris  is  perhaps  the  most  able  and  sympathetic 
of  the  interpreters  of  Emerson,  and  he  has  always 
discriminated  carefully  between  the  organic  unity 
required  in  the  drama  or  the  novel,  and  the  logical 
unity  demanded  in  the  prose  essay.  In  Emerson's 
essay  entitled  "  Experience  "  he  felt  that  the  dialectic 
art  was  strikingly  revealed.  "  In  this  wonderful  piece 
of  writing,"  said  Dr.  Harris  in  reference  to  this  essay, 
"we   have  a  compend   of  his   insights  into   life   and 


172  BOSTON   DAYS 


nature  arranged  in  dialectic  order.  The  first  phrase 
brings  us  to  the  consciousness  of  illusion." 

Miss  Alcott  used  laughingly  to  say  that  she  "  fled  the 
town  "  when  the  philosophers  began  to  arrive ;  but  for 
a  great  number  of  other  people,  apparently,  it  was  the 
time  to  fare  forth  to  classic  Concord.  All  in  all  there 
was  an  element  of  comedy,  as  well  as  of  the  serious 
pursuits  of  the  scholar,  in  these  Concord  summers.  Mr. 
Sanborn  often  looked  on  with  a  suspicious  twinkle  in 
his  eye ;  but  the  exquisite  courtesy  of  all  the  leaders  in 
this  modern  Academe  —  Mr.  Alcott,  Dr.  Harris,  Mr. 
Sanborn,  and  the  lecturers  who  came  and  went  —  was 
not  the  least  of  the  charm  that  impressed  itself  upon 
the  devotee,  and  perhaps,  indeed,  upon  even  the  camp- 
followers,  who  were  by  no  means  wanting. 

"  Thou  knowest  not  what  argument 
Thy  life  to  thy  neighbor's  creed  hath  lent." 

For  there  were  cranks  attracted  to  the  "School  of 
Philosophy  "  like  moths  to  a  light,  and  they  were  not 
invariably  of  the  order  of  whom  Dr.  Holmes  affirmed 
that  they  "  turn  the  wheel  of  the  universe."  Yet 
largely  the  classic  town  was  thronged  with  scholarly 
and  aspiring  truth-seekers,  who,  if  not  of  an  order  to 
precisely  set  the  lazy,  sluggish  Concord  River  on  fire, 
were  at  least  serious  and  reverent,  and  were  largely 
composed  of  the  choicest  minds  of  the  country.  The 
audience,  not  unfrequently,  was  only  less  remarkable 
than  the  leaders  who  graced  the  platform.  Saint  and 
sage  were  attracted  to  this  unique  centre  of  speculative 


CONCORD,  AND   ITS   FAMOUS   AUTHORS     173 

thought.  It  was  considered  the  greatest  of  privileges 
to  hear  the  remarkable  lectures  of  Dr.  Harris,  —  a  privi- 
lege for  which  the  scholar  and  thinker  would  gladly 
cross  ocean  or  continent:  Emerson's  beautiful  person- 
ality made  immortal  the  two  summers  during  which  he 
was  often  present,  but  when  the  third  summer  session 
came  it  was  to  include  memorial  tributes  to  the  seer 
who  had  just  withdrawn  from  the  visible  communion  of 
these  choice  spirits.  Mr.  Alcott  was  universally  beloved 
and  his  "  conversations  "  and  his  presence  inspired  a 
curiously  intense  interest;  and  Mr.  Sanborn,  with  his 
classic  learning,  his  wide  literary  grasp  and  exceptional 
power  of  penetration  and  insight,  his  wit,  his  mercurial 
brilliancy  and  magnetic  charm  of  manner,  was  a  potent 
factor  in  attracting  a  significant  concourse  to  the  little 
hillside  chapel. 

While  Dr.  Harris  expounded  Speculative  Philosophy, 
Dr.  Hiram  K.  Jones,  the  celebrated  Platonist,  took  for 
his  province  Platonic  Philosophy  under  the  heads  of 
"The  Platonic  Idea  of  Deity,"  "The  Platonic  Idea  of 
the  Soul,"  "  The  Platonic  Idea  of  the  World,  or  the 
Habitation  of  the  Soul,"  and  "  The  Platonic  Idea  of 
History." 

Hiram  K.  Jones,  M.D.,  LL.D.,  came  from  Jackson- 
ville, 111.,  where  he  was  the  founder  and  the  president 
of  the  Plato  Club,  and  he  was  regarded  by  students  of 
that  ancient  worthy  as  the  leading  Platonist  in  this 
country.  His  lectures  sometimes  approached  five  hours 
in  length,  and  there  were  those  among  the  audience  who 
would  slip  out  of  the  little   door  into  the  shade  and 


174  BOSTON   DAYS 


fragrance  of  the  hillside  greenery,  for  a  vacation  inter- 
lude during  the  prolonged  process  of  the  good  doctor's 
delivery  of  his  insights  into  the  Platonian  realm.  The 
attentive  listener  would  hear  him  saying :  — 

' '  All  corporeality  is  related  to  a  somewhat,  of  which  it 
is  corporality  or  body,  as  shadow  to  substance.  From 
the  thinker,  is  a  spiritual  power.  Only  spirit  feels  and 
thinks  and  moves  and  knows;  and  man  only  by  means 
of  corporeality.  And  man  feels  and  thinks  and  moves  in 
view  of,  and  in  relation  to,  three  aspects  of  reality, — 
physics,  metaphysics,  and  divinity  —  by  means  of  three 
orders  of  corporeality  —  as  instruments  therein  respec- 
tively of  the  three  orders  of  knowing." 

Again,  the  learned  Doctor  would  be  heard  announc- 
ing, —  his  words  falling  with  the  measured  and  slightly 
metallic  sound  of  a  phonograph  :  — 

"  Man  does  not  first  think  tree  or  animal  shape,  and 
then  fumble  about  till  he  finds  one,  but  he  is  first  sentient 
of  these  forms  by  their  image  and  impress  upon  his  physi- 
cal sensorium,  and  thereupon  arise  the  motion  and  form 
of  his  thought  and  science  concerning  those  natures. 
And  likewise  in  his  psychical  and  spiritual  sensoria  man 
does  not  first  think  essence,  soul,  God,  and  then  grope 
around  in  the  limbo  of  ignorance  and  inexperience  until 
he  has  found  one  of  these  forms,  but  he  is  first  sentient 
of  their  form  by  means  of  the  impress  and  reflection  pf 
the  images  of  these  natures  in  his  psychic  and  pneumatic 
sensoria ;  and  toward  these  impressions  spring  the  motion 
and  form  of  his  thought  and  knowledge  concerning  super- 
physical  and  super-essential  natures." 


CONCORD,  AND   ITS   FAMOUS   AUTHORS     175 

Sometimes,  indeed,  an  irreverent  couple  would  leave 
these  Platonic  expositions  of  the  "  physical  sensorium  " 
and  "  spiritual  sensoria  "  and  be  off  for  an  hour's  row  on 
the  Concord  River,  —  whose  current  is  so  sluggish  that 
Hawthorne  said  he  swam  across  it  every  day  all  one 
summer  without  being  able  to  determine  which  way  it 
flowed,  —  but  as  the  lectures  of  Dr.  Jones  were,  like 
the  quality  of  Japanese  pictures,  such  as  to  permit 
approach  from  any  angle  of  vision,  —  upside  down,  or 
divided  anywhere ;  any  part,  despite  mathematical  laws, 
being  equal  to  the  whole,  —  they  lent  themselves  to  the 
charming  possibilities  of  being  taken  in  sections.  In- 
deed, the  irreverent  and  unplatonic  mind  was  not  un- 
frequently  found  to  insist  that  a  part  was  better  than 
the  whole  of  the  good  doctor's  discourses,  whose  length 
suggested  the  infinite  leisure  of  the  Eternities  rather 
than  the  limits  of  an  ephemeral  summer's  day. 

The  session  of  the  School  of  Philosophy  for  the 
summer  of  1881  opened  with  a  poem  by  Mr.  Edmund 
C.  Stedman,  that  afterward  enriched  the  pages  of  the 
"Atlantic  Monthly."  In  1882  the  poem  was  by  Mr. 
Sanborn,  —  an  ode  of  classic  beauty,  entitled,  "  The 
Poet's  Countersign."  Mr.  Sanborn  is  a  Harvard  man,  of 
the  class  of  1855,  and  has  been  for  many  years  widely 
known  throughout  the  country  as  a  leader  in  social 
economics  and  for  his  counsel  upon  the  management 
of  charities,  the  care  of  the  insane,  and  kindred  topics 
as  well  as  for  his  brilliant  literary  work.  He  was  long 
the  Secretary  of  the  American  Social  Science  Associa- 
tion ;  he  was  Inspector  of  Public  Charities  for  the  State 


176  BOSTON   DAYS 


of  Massachusetts,  and  has  for  many  years  been  the 
Boston  correspondent  of  the  "  Springfield  Republican." 
He  was  the  literary  executor  of  Theodore  Parker,  the 
Unitarian  preacher,  and  had  many  of  his  papers.  He 
wrote  the  life  of  Henry  D.  Thoreau,  which  was  pub- 
lished in  the  "  American  Men  of  Letters  "  series,  and  his 
biography  of  John  Brown  is  one  of  the  great  contribu- 
tions to  American  literature.  The  opening  of  Mr.  San- 
bom's  "  Ode  "  is  full  of  beauty,  when  the  poet  finds  that 

^' .  .  .  another  unreturning  spring  hath  passed," 

and  one  canto  is  as  follows  :  — 

"  Along  the  marge  of  the  slow-gliding  streams, 
Our  winding  Concord  and  the  wider  flow 
Of  Charles  by  Cambridge,  walks  and  dreams 
A  throng  of  poets,  —  tearfully  they  go  ; 
For  each  bright  river  misses  from  its  band 
The  keenest  eye,  the  truest  heart,  the  surest  minstrel  hand,  — 
They  sleep  each  on  his  wooded  hill  above  the  sorrowing  land. 
Duly  each  mound  with  garlands  we  adorn 
Of  violet,  lily,  laurel,  and  the  flowering  thorn,  — 
Sadly  above  them  wave 

The  wailing  pine-trees  of  their  native  strand  ; 
Sadly  the  distant  billows  smite  the  shore, 
Plash  in  the  sunlight,  or  at  midnight  roar,  — 
All  sounds  of  melody,  all  things  sweet  and  fair 
On  earth,  in  sea  or  air, 
Droop  and  grow  silent  by  the  poet's  grave." 

Mr.  Alcott's  "  Salutatory  "  for  each  session  was  always 
very  characteristic  :  he  welcomed  the  audience  to  the 
pleasant  town  and  to  the  mental  delights  of  Hillside 
Chapel.     He  spoke  of  the  absorbing  beauties  of  divine 


CONCORD,  AND   ITS   FAMOUS   AUTHORS     177 

philosophy, — a  subject  which  embraces  eternal  truth, 
righteousness,  and  beauty.  There  were  but  few  orna- 
ments at  the  chapel,  for  they  believed  that  a  holy  life  is 
the  only  true  beauty,  as  the  eye  itself,  not  what  it  sees, 
is  beautiful.  God  is  the  true  philosopher,  he  would 
continue,  and  is  philosophy  Himself.  He  would  quote 
Hierocles,  a  commentator  of  Pythagoras,  who  said : 
"Philosophy  is  the  purification  and  perfection  of 
human  nature,  —  its  purification  because  it  delivers  us 
from  the  temerity  and  folly  that  proceed  from  matter, 
and  because  it  delivers  our  affections  from  the  mortal 
body,  and  its  perfection  because  it  makes  it  recover  its 
original  felicity  by  referring  it  to  the  likeness  of  God." 
Philosophy  addresses  the  intellect,  the  affections,  the 
will,  Mr.  Alcott  would  add.  It  has  in  its  heart  religion. 
A  philosopher  is  a  lover  of  truth. 

Dr.  Harris  gave  during  one  session  a  series  of  lectures 
on  "  Socrates  and  the  Pre-Socratic  Philosophy," 
Aristotle's  "  De  Anima,"  "  Gnosticism  and  Neo-Platon- 
ism,"  '^Christian  Mysticism,"  '^Philosophy  of  the 
Bhagavad  Ghita,"   and   one  or  two  lectures  on   Art. 

"  Philosophic  knowing  is  to  be  distinguished  from 
ordinary  reflection,"  one  would  find  him  saying,  in  his 
musical  vibrant  voice,  "  through  the  fact  that  it  sets  up 
one  principle  as  the  explanation  of  the  world,  while 
mere  reflection  is  content  to  find  subordinate  unities, 
and  to  make  classifications  and  generalizations.  Ordi- 
nary science  seeks  unities  and  tries  to  piece  together  the 
fragments  of  experience  and  to  trace  facts  to  principles ; 
but  philosophy  is  more  ambitious,  and  undertakes  to 

12 


178  BOSTON   DAYS 


find  one  principle  for  all  facts.  Say  what  we  will  of 
the  pride  of  the  human  intellect,  and  of  the  desirability 
of  humility,  we  find,  after  all,  that  the  deepest  interest 
of  the  human  mind  lies  in  the  question  which  relates  to 
the  ultimate  principle.  The  subordinate  principles  are 
not  so  important,  —  we  can  appeal  from  them  to  the 
higher;  but  the  absolute  principle  of  all, — that  is 
something  that  concerns  the  origin  and  destiny  of  all 
human  beings.  In  this  respect  philosophy  corresponds 
to  religion,  and  both  are  conversant  with  the  absolute 
principle."  In  his  lecture  on  Aristotle  Dr.  Harris  gave 
this  fine  and  most  valuable  passage  :  — 

*'  Aristotle's  work  on  the  Soul,  although  a  small  book, 
has  made  a  great  impression  on  the  thinking  of  mankind. 
It  is  a  treatise  in  three  parts,  having  thirty  chapters  in  all, 
and  could  be  printed  entire  on  a  hundred  pages  octavo, 
with  large  clear  type.  It  contains  the  application  of  the 
highest  doctrines  reached  by  Greek  speculation  to  the 
knowledge  of  what  is  most  interesting  to  man, — his 
spiritual  nature.  In  whatever  department  Aristotle 
worked  he  reached  distinctions  that  were  fundamental, 
and  gave  them  technical  names  of  such  aptitude  that  the 
scientific  mind  of  all  subsequent  ages  has  gladly  adopted 
them.  To  state  the  first  elements  of  any  science  relating 
to  man  or  to  nature,  is  very  nearly  to  talk  the  language 
of  Aristotle.  To  use  a  thinker's  technique,  is,  of  course, 
in  some  measure  to  accept  his  view  of  the  world.  Dante, 
in  the  fourth  canto  of  the  '  Inferno,'  calls  Aristotle  the 
'  master  of  those  who  know,'  —  that  is,  of  all  who  pursue 
science.  So  it  has  happened  in  this  book  on  the  Soul 
especially,  that  Aristotle's  distinctions  and  definitions  have 
formed  the  nucleus  of  all  spiritual  theories  in  psychology. 


CONCORD,  AND   ITS   FAMOUS   AUTHORS     179 

It  is  therefore  profitable  for  us  to  go  over  the  inventory 
of  his  thoughts  when  we  are  studying  the  history  of  phi- 
losophy, and  investigating  the  origin  of  ideas  current  in 
our  times  and  weighing  their  value." 

Scotch  philosophy  when  expounded  by  President 
McCosh  of  Princeton  became  a  weighty  matter  in- 
deed —  to  the  hearer,  if  not  to  the  lecturer.  During  the 
several  summers  many  of  the  same  lecturers  were  heard 
in  each  session,  and  some  new  ones  gave  variation  to  the 
themes.  On  one  evening  Mrs.  Julia  Ward  Howe  lec- 
tured on  "  Dante  and  Beatrice,"  and  among  those  present 
were  Mrs.  Ralph  Waldo  Emerson,  Miss  Ellen  Emerson, 
and  Miss  Louisa  M.  Alcott.  Mrs.  Emerson  was  a  slight 
shy,  silent  figure  in  black,  with  her  soft  white  hair  show- 
ing under  her  dark,  cavern-like  bonnet  like  a  fringe  of 
finest  floss.  Mrs.  Howe's  lecture  was  a  noble  and 
beautiful  interpretation  of  the  power  of  idealized  love 
to  lead  to  spiritual  heights  and  holiest  inspiration. 
Never  has  the  sublime  meaning  of  Dante's  immortal 
poem  been  more  wonderfully  revealed  than  it  was  that 
evening  by  the  fine  insight  and  classical  thought  of 
Mrs.  Howe.  Her  picturing  of  Dante's  vision  of  Bea- 
trice was  a  representation  so  artistic  and  so  impressive 
that  painting  or  drama  could  hardly  have  enhanced  its 
vivid  power. 

Mr.  Sanborn,  lecturing  on  "The  Oracles  of  New 
England/'  spoke  in  this  beautiful  way  of  "  The  Sphinx  " 
of  Emerson :  — 

"  I  have  been  wont  to  consider  this  (the  vSphinx)  as  the 
most  remarkable  oracular  poem  in  literature,"  said  Mr. 


180  BOSTON   DAYS 


Sanboru;  "  far  more  so,  even,  than  that  brief  compend  of 
the  Bhagavad  Gita  which  Emerson  published  twenty-five 
years  ago  in  the  first  number  of  the  '  Atlantic  Monthly/ 
under  the  name  of  '  Brahma.'  Out  of  that  poem  you  can 
only  unfold  by  evolution  a  certain  number  or  form  of  the 
Totality,  but  '  The  Sphinx '  has  implied  in  it  the  Totality 
itself,  so  far  as  this  world  of  man  is  concerned.  I  expect 
to  live  long  enough,"  he  continued,  "to  see  professorships 
established  even  at  Harvard  and  Yale  to  explain  this  poem, 
as  professors  have  for  so  many  years  been  explaining 
Plato's  '  Timoneous  '  and  Aristotle's  '  Work  on  the  Soul.'  " 

The  summer  of  1881  found  Elizabeth  Peabody  in 
Pennsylvania,  unable  to  betake  herself  to  the  Platonic 
and  Socratic  platform,  and  to  Mr.  Alcott  she  wrote  as 
follows :  — 

"Dear  Mr.  Alcott, — Here  I  have  before  me  the 
programme  of  the  Concord  School,  the  bill  of  fare  a  ban- 
quet of  the  gods,  which  I  must  miss  because  my  material 
body  is  at  odds  with  my  psychic  body  (I  wonder  if  Dr. 
Jones  can  explain  why  ?)....!  may  be  wound  up  to  go 
another  ten  years,  perhaps,  not  half  dead,  but  alive  and 
capable.  And  therefore  I  feel  it  necessary  to  say  that 
you  must  get  some  one  else  to  take  my  place,  and  since 
you  want  a  paper  on  Dr.  Channing  let  me  advise  you 
to  ask  Mr.  Eowland  G-.  Hazard,  who  once  published  a 
lecture  on  the  '  Philosophical  Character  of  Dr.  Channing,' 
with  whom  he  was,  from  early  youth,  in  philosophic  con- 
cord, having  so  attracted  Dr.  Channing  by  the  metaphy- 
sical insight  he  showed  in  his  maiden  essay  on  language 
that  Dr.  C.  took  great  pains  to  discover  his  identity  that 
he  might  advise  him  to  pursue  as  a  life  work  his  researches 
into  yet  unspoken  truth." 


CONCORD,  AND   ITS    FAMOUS   AUTHORS     181 

Miss  Peabody  proceeded  to  say  that  she  had  wished 
to  speak,  not  on  Dr.  Channing  or  Margaret  Fuller,  as 
Mr.  Alcott  suggested,  but  on  the  ideal  of  the  School 
of  Philosophy  itself. 

The  next  season  (1882)  she  came,  an  aged  woman  of 
unwieldy  figure,  whose  cap  was  always  falling  off,  and 
whose  bag,  pencil,  and  spectacles,  as  before  noted,  fur- 
nished constant  employment  to  her  votaries  in  collecting 
and  picking  them  up  from  the  floor.  Lovely,  golden- 
haired  Mrs.  Lathrop  (Rose  Hawthorne)  was  the  de- 
voted attendant  of  her  aunt  Elizabeth.  The  Lathrops 
were  living  that  summer  at  the  Wayside,  whose  grounds 
joined  those  of  the  Orchard  House,  on  whose  hillside 
lawn  the  chapel  was  built.  Miss  Peabody  was  in  a 
state  of  exaltation  and  beatitude  during  these  lectures. 
Her  hearing  was  impaired,  but  she  occupied  a  seat  near 
the  lecturer,  and  she  contributed  to  the  discussion 
thoughts  of  essential  value. 

Untidiness  of  dress  was  always,  one  is  forced  to  con- 
fess, one  of  Miss  Peabody 's  characteristics.  Not  un- 
cleanliness,  but  untidiness.  It  arose,  it  may  be,  from 
her  utter  unconsciousness  of  self.  Miss  Helen  M. 
Knowlton,  the  artist,  and  the  biographer  of  her  friend 
and  master,  William  Hunt,  relates  this  amusing 
incident :  — 

"I  was  in  a  street  car,"  says  Miss  Knowlton,   "and 

Mr. ,  sitting   by  me,   whispered  the  question   as   to 

whether  I  knew  Miss  Peabody.  I  replied  that  I  did  not, 
and  he  said :  '  That  is  she  in  the  other  corner,  but  don't 
look  for  a  minute.'    The  caution  came  too  late,  for  as  he 


182  BOSTON   DAYS 


named  her  I  glanced  that  way.  It  was  in  the  days  of 
hoops,  and  she  sat  serenely  and  meditatively  in  her  seat, 
her  hoop  skirt  flying  up  before  her,  disclosing  a  black- 
and-red  petticoat  and  white  stockings,  but  she  was  per- 
fectly unconscious  of  any  disarray  in  her  appearance." 

Mrs.  Hawthorne,  on  the  contrary,  was  a  model  of 
neatness  and  exquisite  taste.  Miss  Peabody's  care- 
lessness of  personal  attire  was  always  a  trial  to  the  eyes 
of  Emerson,  who  demanded  neatness  and  order  about 
him.  It  was  probably  due  to  a  certain  lack  of  executive 
and  applied  power.  In  fact,  with  more  power  on  the 
plane  of  the  visible  and  material,  Elizabeth  Peabody 
would  have  left  a  deeper  impress  upon  her  time  than 
she  has,  as  she  would  have  formulated  her  work  and 
related  it  more  definitely  to  the  needs  of  humanity. 
Transcendentalism,  however,  did  its  work  in  its  asser- 
tion of  the  absolute  supremacy  of  the  spiritual  over  the 
material.  That  was  what  it  stood  for,  and  that  is  the 
inheritance  that  it  left  to  the  future.  The  present 
theosophical  and  metaphysical  thought  —  the  Christian 
science  and  spiritualistic  trend  in  general  —  is  but  the 
same  transcendental  thought  appearing  under  other 
names  and  conditions.  The  essential  idea  is  the  same 
in  all.  It  is  the  assertion  of  man's  diviner  powers; 
the  confident  assurance  while  dwelling  temporarily  amid 
material  things,  he  is  essentially  a  spirit,  living  a  spiritual 
life. 

In  1887  Miss  Peabody  published  her  last  book, 
"  Evenings  with  Allston,  and  Other  Essays,"  and  her 
preface  to  this  collection  of  scattered  papers  which  had 


CONCORD,  AND   ITS   FAMOUS   AUTHORS     183 

first  appeared  in  "  The  Dial "  was  singularly  clear  and 
forcible. 

There  are  no  words  strong  or  vivid  enough  to  convey 
any  adequate  impression  of  the  abounding  love  that  was 
the  keynote  of  the  nature  of  Elizabeth  Palmer  Peabody. 
She  was  essentially  a  spirit  of  love,  of  enthusiasm  for 
humanity,  and  for  the  diviner  phases  of  progress. 
"  How  rich  she  was !  "  well  said  Mrs.  Howe  at  the  last 
services,  held  in  the  beautiful  atmosphere  of  the 
"  Church  of  the  Disciples,"  on  her  death.  "  How  rich 
in  love,  how  rich  in  sympathy,  how  rich  in  interests  !  " 
She  loved  every  one.  Her  nature  was  a  fountain  of 
infinite  tenderness  and  the  most  exalted  and  exquisite 
beauty  of  feeling  and  of  appreciation.  She  was  pecu- 
liarly fitted  to  enter  into  the  kingdom  of  heaven.  She 
lived  in  it  while  on  earth  and  made  this  celestial  joy  in 
the  entire  atmosphere  of  her  life. 

Among  the  memorable  visitors  to  Concord  in  the 
early  summers  of  the  school,  was  Julia  Romana  Anagnos 
(Mrs.  Michael  Anagnos),  the  eldest  child  of  Dr.  and  Mrs. 
Howe,  a  woman  whose  beauty  and  charm  radiated  like 
sunlight  in  the  air.  Mrs.  Anagnos  embodied  her  im- 
pressions of  the  school  in  a  fanciful  little  sketch  called 
"  Philosophse  Quaestor  "  and  in  this  we  find  her  saying 
of  one  lecture  on  the  Buddhist  faith  :  — 

"  Genially  as  they  enjoyed  the  noble  essay,  the 
audience  did  not  seem  converted  to  a  wish  for  annihila- 
tion. On  the  contrary,  they  appeared  extremely  flourish- 
ing, and  went  to  a  musical  party  that  very  afternoon. 
The  music  gave  rise  to  philosophic  discussion,  quite  as 


184  BOSTON   DAYS 


eagerly  attended  to  as  the  art  which  called  it  forth.  No 
piece  was  considered  complete  without  the  ringing  out  of 
a  silvery  voice  in  exposition  of  its  meaning;  and  the 
blending  of  the  metaphysical  with  the  artistic  and  social 
thought-factors  on  this  occasion  was  felicitous  in  the 
extreme." 

As  a  liberal  education  in  the  beauty  of  courtesy,  the 
School  of  Philosophy  must  be  especially  remembered. 
The  unbounded  mental  hospitality  for  opposing  views  ; 
the  infinite  toleration  of  the  leaders,  Mr.  Alcott,  Dr. 
Harris,  Mr.  Sanborn,  or  any  lecturer  of  the  day,  —  Mrs. 
Howe,  Dr.  Jones,  Mrs.  Cheney,  President  McCosh,  or 
younger  lecturers,  as  Julian  Hawthorne,  who  spoke 
once  on  the  structure  of  novels,  and  George  Parsons 
Lathrop,  who  gave  a  series  of  these  lectures  on  "  Color, " 
their  liberality  toward  opposition  or  even  ignorance,  the 
gentle  benignity  and  serene  patience  of  Dr.  Harris,  w^ho 
was  always  especially  being  questioned  by  persons  in  the 
audience,  —  all  this  spiritual  loveliness  of  atmosphere 
must  forever  remain  in  memory  as  an  added  illustration 
of  the  profound  truth  involved  in  Tennyson's  lines  :  — 

"  For  manners  are  not  idle,  but  the  fruit 
Of  loyal  nature  and  of  noble  mind." 

The  work  of  the  school  was  destined  in  various  ways 
and  through  various  channels  to  stand  for  a  great  liber- 
alization of  ideas  in  all  the  radiant  activity  of  study, 
thought,  and  expression,  which  communicated  itself  to 
the  outer  world  and  whose  results  and  effects  continue 
in  ever  widening  influence.  The  "  truth  once  uttered  " 
is  indeed  like 


CONCORD,   AND   ITS   FAMOUS   AUTHORS     185 

"  A  star,  new-born,  that  drops  into  its  place. 
And  which,  once  circling  in  its  placid  round, 
Not  all  the  tumult  of  the  earth  can  shake." 

In  the  April  of  1882  Emerson,  the  beloved,  passed  on 
into  the  life  more  abundant,  and  the  quiet  town,  whose 
associations  have  made  it  the  classic  spot  in  America, 
received  a  new  consecration  when,  near  the  graves  of 
Hawthorne  and  Thoreau,  was  made  the  grave  of 
Emerson.  It  was  a  notable  company  that  met  in 
Sleepy  Hollow  Cemetery  and  strewed  the  twigs  of  pine 
taken  from  the  trees  that  Thoreau  had  planted,  over 
the  casket. 

Of  the  family  were  Mrs.  Emerson  and  her  daughters, 
Mrs.  Forbes  and  Miss  Ellen,  Dr.  Edward  Emerson, 
and  other  relatives.  Among  the  friends  present  were 
Mr.  Alcott,  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes,  George  William 
Curtis,  Dr.  William  T.  Harris,  Elizabeth  Peabody,  Miss 
Longfellow,  Mrs.  Agassiz,  Thomas  Wentworth  Higgin- 
son,  President  Eliot  of  Harvard,  Mrs.  Annie  Fields, 
Henry  James,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Edwin  P.  Whipple,  Dr. 
and  Mrs.  Hedge,  J.  Eliot  Cabot  (who  was  afterwards 
Emerson's  biographer).  Dr.  Asa  Gray,  the  famous 
botanist,  Elizabeth  Stuart  Phelps,  Louisa  Alcott,  Pro- 
fessor Horsford,  Charles  Eliot  Norton,  Mrs.  John  A. 
Andrew,  Rev.  Dr.  Bartol,  and  Mrs.  Julia  Ward 
Howe. 

The  simple  services  were  appropriate  to  the  life  and 
faith  of  him  whom  they  commemorated.  At  the  house 
Rev.  Dr.  Furness,  Emerson's  lifelong  friend,  read 
Tennyson's  poem,  "  The  Deserted  House  "  :  — 


186  BOSTON   DAYS 


"  Life  and  thought  have  gone  away, 
Side  by  side, 
Leaving  door  and  windows  wide, 
Careless  tenants  they. 

Come  away,  for  life  and  thought 

Here  no  longer  dwell ; 
But  in  a  city  —  glorious, 
A  great  and  distant  city  —  have  bought 

A  mansion  incorruptible. 
"Would  they  could  have  staid  with  us!  " 

Two  stanzas  from  Longfellow's  poem  "  Resignation," 
which  five  weeks  before  had  been  read  at  his  own 
funeral,  were  repeated  over  Emerson. 

The  plain  wooden  pulpit  was  covered  with  pine 
boughs;  and  a  beautiful  harp  of  yellow  jonquils,  the 
gift  of  Louisa  Alcott,  was  placed  in  front.  The  Emer- 
son School  sent  an  open  volume  composed  of  flowers, 
the  last  page  of  which  was  of  white  lilies  with  the  word 
"  Finis "  in  blue  forget-me-nots.  The  rich  glow  of 
jacqueminot  roses  and  of  scarlet  and  white  geraniums 
lined  the  pulpit  stairs,  while  above  on  the  wall  hung 
one  single  emblem,  —  a  laurel  wreath.  The  funeral 
march  from  Chopin,  and  "  Pleyel's  Hymn,"  by  request 
of  the  family,  were  rendered  on  the  organ.  James 
Freeman  Clarke  entered  the  pulpit  and  Judge  Hoar 
stood  by  the  coffin.  In  a  brief  address,  he  said  after 
referring  to  the  universal  sorrow  on  both  continents : 

"  But  we,  his  friends  and  neighbors,  feel  that  he  was 
ours.  He  was  descended  from  the  founders  of  the  town. 
He  chose  our  village  as  the  place  where  his  lifelong  work 


CONCORD,  AND   ITS   FAMOUS   AUTHORS     187 

was  to  be  done.  It  was  to  our  fields  and  orchards  that 
his  presence  gave  such  value;  it  was  in  our  streets,  in 
which  children  looked  up  to  him  with  love  and  the  elder 
did  him  reverence.  He  was  our  ornament  and  pride.  .  .  . 
O  friend,  brother,  father,  lover,  teacher,  inspirer,  guide  ! 
is  there  nothing  more  for  us  to  do  than  to  give  thee  our 
hail  and  farewell  ?  " 

Selectious  from  the  Scriptures  were  read  by  Dr. 
Furness,  and  the  chief  address  was  given  by  James 
Freeman  Clarke,  who  said,  in  part :  — 

"  It  is  not  for  me,  it  is  not  for  this  hour,  to  say  what 
ought  to  be  said  of  the  genius  which  has  kindled  the  fires 
of  thought  in  two  continents.  The  present  moments 
belong  to  reverential  love.  We  thank  God  here  for  the 
influences  which  have  made  us  all  better.  The  voice  now 
hushed  never  spoke  but  to  lift  us  to  a  higher  plane  of 
generous  sentiment.  The  hand  now  still  never  wrote 
except  to  take  us  out  of  ^  our  dreary  routine  of  sense, 
worldliness,  and  sin'  into  communion  with  whatever  is 
noblest,  purest,  highest. 

"  That  day  dawned  anew  when  the  sight  of  the  divine 
truth  kindled  a  light  in  the  solemn  eyes  of  Channing  and 
created  a  new  power  which  spoke  from  the  lips  of  Emer- 
son. Yet  the  young  and  hopeful  listened  with  joy  to  this 
morning  song ;  they  looked  gladly  to  this  auroral  light. 
When  the  little  book  'Nature'  was  published,  it  seemed 
to  some  of  us  a  new  revelation.  Mr.  Emerson  then  said 
what  has  been  the  text  of  his  life,  '  Let  the  single  man 
plant  himself  on  his  Instincts  and  the  great  world  will 
come  round  to  him.'  He  did  not  reply  to  his  critics.  He 
went  on  his  way,  and  to-day  we  see  that  the  world  has 


188  BOSTON  DAYS 


come  round  to  him.  He  is  the  preacher  of  spiritual 
truth  to  our  age.  .  .  .  The  first  time  I  saw  him  I  went 
with  Margaret  Fuller  to  hear  him  preach  in  the  church  on 
Hanover  Street.  Neither  of  us  then  knew  him.  We  sat 
in  the  gallery  and  felt  that  a  new  influence  sweet  and  strong 
had  come.  .  .  .  One  summer  afternoon  we  came  to  Con- 
cord and  had  a  meeting  in  his  parlor.  There  was  George 
Ripley,  admirable  talker,  most  genial  of  men,  and  Orestes 
A.  Brownson,  full  of  courage,  intelligence,  and  industry, 
who  soon  went  over  into  the  Roman  Catholic  church,  and 
James  Walker,  of  whom  Mr.  Emerson  once  said  to  me, 
'  I  have  come  to  Boston  to  hear  Dr.  Walker  thunder  this 
evening,'  Theodore  Parker,  and  many  others.  Days  of 
enthusiasm  and  youthful  hope,  when  the  world  seemed  so 
new  and  fair,  life  so  precious,  when  new  revelations  were 
close  at  hand,  as  we  thought,  and  some  new  Plato  or 
Shakspeare  was  about  to  appear.  We  dwelt  in  what 
Halleck  calls  '  the  dear  charm  of  life's  illusive  dream,'  and 
the  man  who  had  the  largest  hope  of  all,  yet  joined  with 
the  keenest  eye  to  detect  every  fallacy,  was  Ralph  Waldo 
Emerson.  We  looked  to  him  as  our  master,  and  now  the 
world  calls  him  its  master,  —  in  insight,  judgment,  charm 
of  speech,  unfailing  courage,  endless  aspiration.  We  say 
of  him  as  Goethe  said  of  Schiller :  'Lo,  he  went  onward, 
ever  onward  for  all  these  years  —  then,  indeed,  he  had 
gone  far  enough  for  this  earth.  For  care  is  taken  that 
trees  shall  not  grow  up  to  heaven.'  His  work,  like  that 
of  the  apostle,  was  accomplished  by  the  quantity  of  soul 
that  was  in  him,  —  not  by  mere  power  of  intellect,  but 
'  by  pureness,  by  knowledge,  by  long  suffering,  by  kind- 
ness, by  the  Holy  Spirit,  by  love  unfeigned,  by  the  word 
of  truth,  by  the  armor  of  righteousness  on  the  right  hand 
and  the  left.' " 


CONCORD,  AND   ITS   FAMOUS   AUTHORS     189 

Those  present  felt  the  deeper  significance  in  these 
lines  from  one  of  his  own  poems :  — 

"  Wilt  thou  not  ope  thy  heart  to  know 
What  rainbows  teach  and  sunset  show  ? 
Voice  of  earth  to  earth  returned. 
Prayers  of  saints  that  inly  burned, 
Saying,  '  What  is  excellent, 
As  God  lives,  is  permanent  ; 
Hearts  are  dust,  heart's  loves  remain ; 
Heart's  love  will  meet  thee  again.' 

House  and  tenant  go  to  ground, 
Lost  in  God,  in  Godhead  found." 

After  the  prayer  the  venerable  Mr.  Alcott  stepped  to 
the  side  of  the  coffin  and  read  the  following  sonnet  of 
his  own :  — 

"  His  harp  is  silent ;  shall  successors  rise. 
Touching  with  venturous  hand  the  trembling  string, 
Kindle  glad  rapture,  visions  of  surprise. 
And  wake  to  ecstasy  each  slumbering  thing  ? 
Shall  life  and  thought  flash  new  in  wondering  eyes. 
As  when  the  seer  transcendent,  sweet  and  wise, 
World-wide  his  native  melodies  did  sing, 
Flushed  with  fair  hopes  and  ancient  memories  ? 
Ah,  no  !  that  matchless  lyre  shall  silent  lie, 
None  hath  the  vanished  minstrel's  wondrous  skill 
To  touch  that  instrument  with  art  and  will  : 
With  him  winged  poesy  doth  droop  and  die  ;  — 
While  our  dull  age,  left  voiceless,  must  lament, 
The  bard  high  Heaven  had  for  its  service  sent." 

The  beautiful  courtesy  that  characterized  Mr. 
Emerson  was  a  gift  and  a  grace  to  all  who  met 
or  passed  him.     It  was  different  even  from  that  fine 


190  BOSTON  DAYS 


breeding  of  cultured  society,  and  had  about  it  the 
purely  angelic  atmosphere.  His  presence  was  more 
than  the  refined  courtesy  of  polite  life  ;  it  was  in  itself 
a  benediction.  "  While  some  persons  pin  me  to  |^the 
wall  with  others  I  walk  among  the  stars,"  he  has 
written.  In  his  presence,  truly,  one  walked  among  the 
stars.  It  is  rare  to  find  this  exquisite  quality  of 
presence  in  such  a  degree  as  characterized  Mr.  Emerson, 
but  it  is  also  felt  in  Dr.  William  T.  Harris,  whose  exqui- 
site, gentle  courtesy  seems  to  enfold  one  in  the  same 
atmosphere  of  angelic  ministration,  quickening  intel- 
lectual thought,  exalting  spiritual  perception,  till  life  is 
seen  on  its  mount  of  transfiguration. 

The  loss  of  memory  from  which  Mr.  Emerson  had 
sufibred  for  some  years  was  most  touching.  After  the 
funeral  of  Longfellow,  which  he  attended,  he  said  to 
his  daughter,  Miss  Ellen,  "  That  gentleman  whose 
funeral  we  have  been  attending  was  a  sweet  and  beau- 
tiful soul,  but  I  forget  his  name."  One  of  the  touching 
things  said  on  learning  of  his  death  was  the  remark  of 
Mrs.  Lucy  Stone,  that  ^^Mr.  Emerson  has  found  his 
memory  now." 

The  grave  of  Emerson  on  the  crest  of  Sleepy  Hollow 
is  marked  with  a  vast  boulder  of  rose  quartz.  A  bronze 
tablet  bears  the  inscription :  — 

EALPH  WALDO  EMERSON, 
Born  in  Boston,  May  25,  1807. 
Died  in  Concord,  April  27,  1882. 
"  The  passive  master  lent  his  hand 
To  the  vast  soul  that  o'er  him  planned." 


CONCORD,  AND   ITS   FAMOUS   AUTHORS     191 

By  his  side  now  lies  his  wife,  and  the  grave  of  the 
little  son  Waldo,  in  whose  memory  he  wrote  the 
"  Threnody,"  is  next  his  own.  On  this  stone  is 
the  inscription :  — 

WALDO   EMERSON, 

Died  January,  1844, 
Aged  five  years  and  three  months. 
"  The  Hyacinthine  boy  for  whom 

Morn  well  might  break  and  April  bloom, 
The  gracious  boy  who  did  adorn 
The  world  where  into  he  was  born." 

The  Emerson  Memorial  lectures  of  the  Concord 
School  of  Philosophy  were  fitly  collected  into  a  volume 
edited  by  Mr.  Sanborn,  which  is  one  of  the  finest  con- 
tributions to  literature  as  well  as  to  the  study  of  the 
genius  and  character  of  Emerson. 

Mr.  Sanborn's  own  noble  lecture  initiated  these  me- 
morial tributes,  and  in  this  address  we  find  him  saying  of 
his  lifelong  friend  and  neighbor,  who  leaned  upon  him 
almost  as  a  son :  — 

*'  It  is  not  given  tons,  and  to  few  men  can  it  be  given, 
to  measure  the  height  and  depth  of  Emerson's  genius, 
either  as  poet  or  as  philosopher.  But  there  is  an  aspect 
of  his  philosophical  character  which  we  cannot  too  often 
dwell  upon,  —  his  flowing,  unfailing  courtesy  to  all  men, 
his  hospitality  to  everything  that  bore  the  upright  face  of 
thought,  his  deep  sympathy  and  fellowship,  beneath  an 
exterior  sometimes  cold,  with  all  that  was  human  and 
aspiring.  His  friend  Jones  Very  once  said,  in  an  essay 
on  poetry  too  early  forgotten  :  '  The  fact  is,  our  manners, 
or  the  manners  and  actions  of  any  intellectual  nation, 


192  BOSTON   DAYS 


can  never  become  the  representatives  of  greatness.  They 
have  fallen  from  the  high  sphere  which  they  occupied  in  a 
less  advanced  stage  of  the  human  mind,  never  to  regain 
it.'  But  this  remark,  like  almost  everything  in  daily 
American  experience,  found  its  constant  contradiction  in 
Emerson;  whose  manners  represented  nothing  else  than 
greatness,  and  that  not  in  a  dazzling,  overpowering  way, 
but  with  the  sweetness  of  sunlight." 

Mrs.  Cheney  and  Mrs.  Howe  spoke  of  Emerson  with 
great  felicity  of  appreciation.  "  He  had  power  to  take 
people  into  realms  of  thought  and  life,"  said  Mrs. 
Howe.  Dr.  Harris,  in  a  finely  critical  discussion  of 
Emerson's  prose,  said :  — 

"The  essay  on  The  Over-Soul  treats  of  succession, 
surface,  and  reality,  under  other  names  ;  that  on  Spiritual 
Laws,  on  reality  and  subjectiveness ;  that  on  Fate  treats 
of  temperament  and  succession;  those  on  Worship, 
History,  Gifts,  Heroism,  Love,  and  such  titles,  treat  of 
subjectiveness.  His  treatises  on  concrete  themes  use 
these  insights  perpetually  as  solvent  principles,  but 
always  with  fresh  statement  and  new  resources  of  poetic 
expression.  There  is  nowhere  in  all  literature  such  sus- 
tained flight  toward  the  sun  —  a  flight,  as  Plotinus  calls 
it,  of  the  alone  to  the  Alone  —  as  that  in  The  Over-Soul, 
wherein  Emerson,  throughout  a  long  essay,  unfolds  the 
insights,  briefly  and  adequately  explained  under  the  topic 
of  '  surprise '  in  the  essay  on  Experience.  It  would 
seem  as  if  each  paragraph  stated  the  ideas  of  the  whole, 
and  then  again  that  each  sentence  in  each  paragraph 
reflected  entire  the  same  idea." 

Dr.  Bartol  discussed  '^The  Nature  of  Knowledge  — 
Emerson's  Way."     For  more  than  an  hour  he  held  the 


CONCORD,  AND   ITS   FAMOUS  AUTHORS     193 

large  audience  spellbound  with  the  magic  of  his  thought, 
saying,  in  part :  — 

"  An  old  apology  makes  a  bishop  say  to  a  sceptic, 
'  How  can  we  guard  our  unbelief  ? '  I  had  thought  to 
speak  of  the  nature  of  knowledge,  but  Emerson's  death 
and  your  appointment  of  this  memorial  day  makes  im- 
possible any  theme  that  his  spirit  does  not  postpone  into 
an  illustration.  I  feel  the  magnetism  from  the  name  of 
one  never  accounted  unbelieving,  save  by  such  as  he  had 
soared  out  of  sight  of  into  the  heaven  of  faith.  If  I  can 
bring  back  for  a  moment  that  light  of  our  day  which 
Emerson  was,  it  will  be  a  sober  joy  ;  for  to  have  lived  in 
the  same  time  with  him,  to  have  been  his  friend  and 
shared  his  love,  not  demonstrative  because  loath  to  ask 
any  return,  is  a  memorable  privilege. 

"Emerson  had  no  code,  or  system,  or  creed  :  no  com- 
prehensive, practical  view  of  principles,  but  only  keen, 
single  perceptions,  fatally  certain  within  whatever  field 
he  surveyed  and  brought  his  perfect  instrument  or  brain 
theodolite  to  bear.  He  was  an  insulated  sun,  as  was 
Milton,  Dante,  Wordsworth,  —  an  island  rather  than  a 
star;  and  as  Homer,  Shakspeare,  and  Goethe  were  not, 
and  the  mighty  Browning  is  not.  His  style  is  crisp  and 
insular :  he  himself  is  a  robe  without  seam,  all  of  one 
piece  :  his  leaf  is  a  carcanet.  His  thoughts  are  a  selection 
of  beads  to  be  strung,  all  belonging  together,  by  their 
perfect  shape  and  hue.  But  the  best  lines  are  like  a 
succession  of  rockets,  with  their  fierce  sallies,  shining 
trains,  and  handsome  curves  opening  wide  glimpses  of 
the  sky.  His  poems  and  essays  are  songs,  not  sym- 
phonies, odes  and  not  dramas.  But  there  was  a  tune  in 
his  mind  so  constant  and  sweet  that  he  cared  not  for 
chords  and  pipes." 

13 


194  BOSTON   DAYS 


The  poem  by  Mr.  A.  Bronson  Alcott  in  memory  of 
his  dead  friend  was  one  of  the  touching  tributes ;  the 
opening  lines  were:  — 

"  Shall  from  the  shades  another  Orpheus  rise  ? 
Sweeping  with  venturous  hand  the  vocal  string  ? 
Kindle  glad  raptures,  visions  of  surprise, 
And  wake  to  ecstasy  each  slumberous  thing  ? 
Flash  life  and  thought  anew  in  wondering  eyes, 
As  when  our  seer,  transcendent  sweet  and  wise, 
World  wide  his  native  melodies  did  sing, 
Flushed  with  fair  hopes  and  ancient  memories  ? 
Ah,  no  !  his  matchless  lyre  must  silent  lie, 
None  hath  the  vanished  minstrel's  wondrous  skill 
To  touch  that  instrument  with  art  and  will. 
With  him  winged  Poesy  doth  droop  and  die, 
While  our  dull  age,  left  voiceless,  with  sad  eye 
Follows  his  flight  to  groves  of  song  on  high." 

The  School  of  Philosophy  filled  the  closing  years  of 
Mr.  Alcott  with  heavenly  light.  Mr.  Sanborn  —  in  that 
noble  "  Memoir  "  of  Bronson  Alcott,  written  by  himself 
and  Dr.  William  T.  Harris,  —  quotes  a  note  written  by 
Alcott  to  a  friend,  in  1882,  in  which  Mr.  Alcott  says  : 

"  Yes,  the  school  is  a  delight  and  a  realized  dream  of 
happy  hours  in  days  of  sunshine.  Life  has  been  a  sur- 
prise to  me  during  these  latter  years,  and  I  allow  myself 
to  anticipate  yet  happier  surprises  in  the  future  stiU  to  be 
mine." 

During  the  preceding  year,  as  Mr.  Sanborn  records, 
Mr.  Alcott  —  then  eighty-one  years  of  age  —  had  made 
a  lecturing  tour  of  seven  months  in  the  West,  travelling 
more  than  five  thousand  miles,  and  holding  conversa- 


CONCORD,   AND   ITS   FAMOUS   AUTHORS     195 

tions  and  lectures  at  the  rate  of  more  than  one  a  day, 
and  he  returned  from  this  journey  in  radiant  health  and 
with  a  thousand  dollars  that  he  had  earned  during  the 
time. 

Of  Mr.  Alcott's  character  Mr.  Sanborn  gives  this 
admirable  judgment :  — 

"  Without  auy  distinguished  literary  gift  and  quite 
devoid  of  the  training  which  best  fits  the  literary  man 
for  his  task,  Alcott  yet  possessed  what  many  men  of  let- 
ters always  lack,  —  an  original  and  profound  habit  of 
mind,  directed  toward  the  most  serious  questions  that  can 
occupy  human  thought.  In  this  rare  trait  he  surpassed 
nearly  all  his  contemporaries,  and  equalled  those  two  be- 
tween whom  he  stood  in  age  —  Carlyle  and  Emerson  — 
and  from  whom  he  differed  so  much  in  his  intellectual 
equipment." 

Mr.  Sanborn  is  especially  felicitous  in  what  he  says 
regarding  the  "  cheap  wit "  of  which  Mr.  Alcott  was 
the  target. 

"  That  this  hostility  and  misconception  of  his  real  pur- 
pose, which  was  high  and  beneficent,  did  not  drive  our 
philosopher  into  bitterness  or  insanity  is  one  of  the  surest 
evidences  of  his  intellectual  greatness.  He  continued  to 
love  mankind  when  they  rejected  him,  for  he  knew  how 
transient  must  be  that  state  of  things  against  which  his 
simple  life  was  a  protest." 

Mr.  Sanborn  quoted  Dr.  Hedge  as  saying  that  Mr. 
Alcott  was  "  a  spiritual  hero,"  and  that  in  him  was  a 
man  "who  scorned  the  bribes  of  earth,  whose   spirit 


196  BOSTON   DAYS 


dwelt  on  the  heights  and  who  sought  converse  with  the 
heavenly  and  the  eternal." 

Dr.  Harris,  who  when  a  Junior  in  Yale  College  first 
met  Mr.  Alcott,  says  of  his  "  conversations  "  :  — 

"It  was  perhaps  difficult  for  those  who  attended  the 
conversations  to  name  any  one  valuable  idea  or  insight 
which  they  had  gained  there,  but  they  felt  harmoniously 
attracted  to  free-thinking,  and  there  was  a  feeling  that 
great  stores  of  insight  lay  beyond  what  they  had  already 
attained.  That  a  person  has  within  him  the  power  of 
growth  in  insight,  is  the  most  valuable  conviction  that  he 
can  acquire.  Certainly  this  was  the  fruit  of  Mr.  Alcott's 
labors  in  the  West.  Ordinarily  a  person  looks  upon  his 
own  wit  as  a  fixed  quantity,  and  does  not  try  a  second 
time  to  understand  anything  found  too  difficult  on  the  first 
trial.  He  set  people  to  reading  Emerson  and  Thoreau. 
He  familiarized  them  with  the  names  of  Plato  and  Py- 
thagoras as  great  thinkers  whose  ideas  are  valid  now  and 
to  remain  valid  throughout  the  ages." 

This  School  of  Philosophy  may  be  held  as  one  of  the 
great  contributions  to  the  liberalization  of  thought.  The 
philosophic  expositions  of  Dr.  Harris  were  of  untold 
significance  and  beauty ;  they  enlarged  the  mind  and 
exalted  the  spirit  of  all  privileged  to  listen  to  such 
lectures,  and  they  have  communicated  to  the  world  of 
thought  an  impulse  that  widens  like  the  swelling  waves 
of  the  ocean.  Dr.  Jones  —  albeit  a  trifle  incomprehen- 
sible —  was  a  true  interpreter  of  Plato ;  Mr.  Sanborn, 
with  his  liberal  and  indeed  almost  exhaustless  familiarity 
with  classics  and  literature  and  his  charm  and  richness 
of  expression ;  Mrs.  Howe's  two  finest  lectures  —  now 


CONCORD,  AND   ITS   FAMOUS   AUTHORS     197 

published  in  a  little  brochure  called  "  Modern  Society  " 

—  which  were  delivered  before  the  School ;  and  the 
many  great  thinkers  of  the  day  who  were  heard  left  a 
lasting  impress  on  the  age.  Mr.  Alcott's  talks  were  full 
of  illumination,  —  and  all  these  made  up  a  series  of 
charmed  hours  in  the  American  Academe.  One  beauti- 
ful little  expression  from  Mr.  Denton  J.  Snider  —  whose 
course  of  lectures  on  Greece  were  singularly  interesting 

—  was  made  regarding  Dr.  Harris.  Mr.  Snider,  refer- 
ring to  one  of  the  lectures  of  Dr.  Harris,  was  led  by  the 
warmth  of  his  enthusiasm  into  an  extended  reference  to 
the  great  thinker  in  which  he  abruptly  checked  him- 
self, saying :  "  He  is  too  great  for  any  praise  of  mine." 
So,  surely,  all  who  listened  to  him  felt  regarding  Dr. 
Harris,  and  the  remark  suggested  to  one  of  the  audience 
a  little  rhythmic  "  Impromptu,"  ^  which  offered  its  trib- 
ute to  Dr.  Harris  as  the  acknowledged  Master,  in  the 
following  stanzas :  — 

"  He  is  too  great  for  any  praise  of  mine." 

So  said  the  artist  whose  rare  touch  had  wrought 

For  us  the  glow  of  Grecian  morns  —  the  shrine 
Of  buried  majesty  —  of  living  thought. 

He,  whose  fine  power  had  pictured  mountains  old, 
And  brought  us  draughts  from  Helicon's  pure  stream ; 

He,  who  of  legend,  myth,  and  poet  told, 
Of  Delphic  oracle  and  mystic  dream  :  — 

And  who,  with  subtle  power,  revealed  to  all 

The  listening  world  immortal  Shakespeare's  art ; 

He,  too,  discerned  this  spell  of  wisdom's  thrall : 
The  grand  ideal  of  our  Master's  heart. 

1  "  From  Dreamland  Sent."     Little,  Brown  &  Co. 


198  BOSTON   DAYS 


Teacher,  Philosopher  !  our  Master  still ! 

Thy  words  thrill  life  with  subtler  harmonies; 
Thy  guidance  teaches  duties  to  fulfil ; 

Transfigures  time  in  sacred  mysteries. 

Thou  art  too  great  —  we  echo  still  the  thought ; 

We  reverence  thy  life  as  Wisdom's  shrine. 
And  say,  0  Master !  all  that  thou  hast  wrought,  — 

"  It  is  too  great  for  any  praise  of  mine." 

The  School  drew  together  from  all  parts  of  the  coun- 
try those  who  were  interested  in  speculative  philosophy ; 
and  its  liberal  scope,  wide  range  of  intellectual  sym- 
pathies, its  inclusiveness  of  poetry  and  general  literature 
with  philosophy  and  ethics,  made  it  one  of  the  marked 
features,  one  of  the  important  intellectual  landmarks  in 
the  spiritual  culture  and  advancement  of  the  Nineteenth 
century. 


Ill 

THE  GOLDEN  AGE  OF  GENIUS 


All  true,  whole  men  succeed ;  for  what  is  worth 
Success's  name,  unless  it  be  the  thought, 
The  inward  surety,  to  have  carried  out 
A  noble  purpose  to  a  noble  end. 
Although  it  be  the  gallows  or  the  block  ? 

Lowell. 


THE  GOLDEN  AGE  OF  GENIUS 

Song  breathed  from  out  the  forest ; 

The  total  air  was  fame : 
It  seemed  the  world  was  all  torches 

That  suddenly  caught  the  flame. 

Emerson. 

|N  the  remarkable  group  of  these  poets  and 
men  of  letters  —  Emerson,  Longfellow,  Haw- 
thorne, Holmes,  Lowell,  Whittier,  Dr.  Par- 
sons, and  Mrs.  Stowe  —  it  is  a  curious  fact  to  note  how 
with  them  was  closely  associated  a  man  who  was  not 
only  one  of  the  creative  workers  but  who  seemed  also 
destined  to  be  their  friend,  their  interpreter,  their  stimu- 
lating and  encouraging  sustainer,  Edwin  Percy  Whipple. 
Side  by  side  with  the  great  poets  and  romancers  stood 
the  critic,  the  man  who  fairly  re-created  and  gave  a  new 
meaning  to  criticism,  redeeming  it  from  the  paltry  sense 
of  discerning  faults  and  conserving  it  to  the  high  use  of 
discerning  virtues  and  beauties,  and  of  interpreting  these 
to  the  world,  and  almost,  indeed,  of  interpreting  the 
author  to  himself.  This  is  the  true  office  of  the  critic 
and  of  the  critical  reviewer  of  literature.  It  does  not 
require  any  special  ability  to  point  out  faults.  That  is 
the  common  task  of  common  minds.  But  to  discern 
and  point  out  the  significance  of  thought,  the  exaltation 
of  the  vision,  and  its  true  relation  to  intellectual  pro- 


202  BOSTON   DAYS 


gress,  —  this  is  indeed  an  office  so  high  that  it  becomes 
wellnigh  holy.  Criticism  of  this  noble  quality  was 
founded,  so  far  as  American  literature  goes,  by  Mr. 
Whipple.  He  was  a  great  critic,  —  a  critic  not  of 
literature  alone,  but  of  life  as  well.  Young  people  who 
are  reaching  out  toward  the  best  that  has  been  thought 
and  done  in  the  world  cannot  afford  to  fail  of  reading 
his  ^'  Character  and  Characteristic  Men,"  "  Success  and 
its  Conditions,"  "  Outlooks  on  Literature,  Society,  and 
Politics,"  and  the  "  Essays  and  Reviews."  ''  Literature 
and  Life  "  is  the  title  of  another  volume  of  Mr.  Whipple, 
which  is  an  invaluable  aid  to  clear  conditions  of  thought 
and  high  conceptions  of  purpose.  His  work  on  "  The 
Elizabethan  Literature  "  still  remains  the  most  valuable 
contribution  to  the  interpretation  of  that  age,  and  con- 
temporary opinion  would  agree  with  the  verdict  of 
Charles  Sumner,  who  wrote  to  Mr.  Whipple  as  fol- 
lows :  — 

CooLiDGE  Home,  7th  September,  '69. 
My  dear  Whipple,  —  If  anybody  wrote  as  well  about 
the  Elizabethan  authors  as  you  have  done,  I  have   not 
read  them.    Your  book  is  a  real  contribution,  with  knowl- 
edge, thought,  and  art.     What  an  artist  you  are! 

Ever  yours, 

Charles  Sumner. 

It  is  like  going  into  Aladdin's  tower  to  be  permitted 
to  sit  down  with  Mrs.  Whipple  in  her  own  room  in  her 
home  in  Pinckney  Street,  —  a  room  vibrating  with 
memories  and  associations,  —  and  listen  to  letters  writ- 
ten to  Mr.  Whipple  in  the  early  days  of  that  literature 


,^       '/yr<^        Y^J^e  ^  ^.^..Jjt^C  .        Jl ^ 


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'^<<v».^^ 


Olaa.  rf 


THE   GOLDEN   AGE    OF    GENIUS  203 

(wliich  we  now  regard  as  our  American  classics)  by 
Lowell,  Longfellow,  Whittier,  Hawthorne,  Holmes,  and 
others.  One  notable  letter  from  Sumner  (all  whose 
letters  were  most  delightful),  was  especially  amusing  in 
its  description  of  his  announcement  to  various  members 
of  the  Senate  of  the  forthcoming  visit  of  Emerson  to  the 
Capital.  The  fame  of  the  Concord  seer  and  poet  had 
not  apparently  penetrated  to  the  consciousness  of  these 
honorable  gentlemen,  and  there  was  an  inquiry  among 
them  as  to  who  this  Emerson  could  be,  —  the  inventor 
of  a  clothes-wringer,  then  largely  in  domestic  vogue,  or 
the  author  of  an  arithmetic  ?  Or  what  title,  indeed, 
had  he  to  consideration  ?  "  Most  of  them  have  settled 
on  the  theory  that  he  is  the  inventor  of  the  clothes- 
wringer,"  gleefully  wrote  Sumner  to  Whipple.  By 
which  it  must  be  surmised  that  the  United  States 
Senate  of  that  decade  was  less  noted  for  literary  than 
for  political  acumen.   „y^' 

Mr.  Longfellow,  returning  from  one  of  his  visits  to 
Europe,  thus  writes  to  Mr.  Whipple  :  — 

Cambridge,  Sept.  7,  1859. 

My  dear  Whipple,  —  Many  thanks  for  your  book. 
Among  my  many  welcomes  home  this  is  one  of  the 
pleasantest.  It  is,  at  most,  as  good  as  seeing  and  hearing 
you,  which  I  know  I  shall  soon  have  the  satisfaction  of 
doing. 

In  Florence  I  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  Ball's  statue 
of  Governor  Andrew.  It  is  very  successful  and  life-like, 
and  I  think  it  will  please  and  satisfy  all  who  are  most 
interested,  and  that  is  saying  a  great  deal. 


204  BOSTON   DAYS 


I  am  glad  to  hear  that  you,  also,  are  engaged  upon  a 
statue  of  the  noble  Governor,  though  in  a  different  style 
and  material. 

May  all  success  attend  your  labors.  This  is  the  hearty 
wish  and  also  the  firm  belief  of 

Yours  truly, 

Henry  W.  Longfellow. 

Letters  from  Dr.  Holmes  attest  the  gratitude  he  felt 
to  Mr.  Whipple  for  his  subtle  and  stimulating  criticism. 
Letters  from  Whittier  note  how,  when,  after  publishing 
a  poem  which  he  doubted  had  claim  to  the  name,  he 
would  be  reassured  by  a  letter  from  Mr.  Whipple  with 
its  words  of  appreciation.  Dr.  Holmes  always  felt  this 
strong  realization  of  the  sweet  debt  of  gratitude  due  to 
Mr.  Whipple,  as  dozens  of  his  letters  indicate.  To  the 
latest  year  of  his  life  he  always  visited  Mrs.  Whipple  on 
Christmas  day,  bringing  his  own  gift,  save  for  one  year, 
when  too  ill  to  go  out,  he  sent  it,  with  one  of  his  most 
charming  letters  and  a  great  basket  of  English  holly. 

At  one  time  Mrs.  Whipple  sent  him  as  a  gift  a  nauti- 
lus, exquisitely  mounted  in  silver,  as  a  souvenir  of  his 
noblest  poem,  "  The  Chambered  Nautilus,"  and  in  ac- 
knowledgment Dr.  Holmes  wrote :  — 

January  7,  1886. 

My  dear  Mrs.  Whipple,  —  You  must  be  in  league 
with  the  Nereids  and  the  Gnomes,  who  despoil  their 
cabinets  to  furnish  you  with  precious  objects  of  the 
rarest  beauty  to  furnish  you  with  gifts  for  your  friends. 
I  do  not  know  how  to  thank  you  for  this  new  and  beauti- 
ful token  of  your  kind  remembrance.     The  nautilus  is  the 


THE   GOLDEN   AGE   OF    GENIUS  205 

finest  specimen  I  have  ever  seen.  It  is  always  before  my 
eyes  to  remind  me  of  your  friendship.  If  I  can  find  a 
place  in  my  simple  costume  for  the  pin  which  bears  the 
lovely  anemonite,  it  shall  go  next  my  heart. 

With  heartfelt  thanks  for  the  exquisite  New  Year's  gift, 
the  beauty  and  interest  of  which  are  quite  captivating,  but 
which   is   made   still  more  lovely   by  the    feeling  which 
prompted  you  to  send  it,  I  am,  my  dear  Mrs.  Whipple, 
Always  faithfully  yours, 

Oli^'er  Wendell  Holmes. 

Kindest  regards  and  a  happy  New  Year  to  you  both. 

When  Hawthorne  was  first  struggling  with  his  genius 
and  his  poverty,  Mr.  Fields  and  Mr.  Whipple  took 
counsel  together,  the  result  of  which  was  that  Mr. 
Fields  made  a  journey  to  Salem  to  see  Hawthorne  and 
propose  to  him  to  publish  a  novel  which  he  had  written 
and  which  proved  to  be  "  The  Scarlet  Letter."  From 
that  time  Hawthorne's  fame  and  fortune  were  assured. 

To  the  Whipples  Louisa  Alcott  owed  her  first  definite 
encouragement  in  literary  work.  There  are  no  words 
to  estimate  the  value,  in  a  community  of  literary 
workers  and  aspirers,  of  a  home  that  radiated  such 
discriminating  encouragement  as  the  criticism  and  fine 
recognition  that  went  out  from  both  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Whipple.  It  was  one  of  the  most  potent  factors  in 
the  golden  age  of  American  literature. 

Mr.  Whipple's  gift  of  swift  recognition  of  excellence 
was  a  potent  factor  in  the  literary  development  of  all 
these  earlier  years.  Dr.  Holmes  recognized  it  in  a  note 
which,  in  his  later  life,  he  wrote  to  accompany  a  review 


206  BOSTON   DAYS 


of  Mr.  Whipple's  work  which  he  had  written,  and  the 
note  runs  thus  :  — 

296  Beacon  St.,  May  15,  1882. 
My  dear  Whipple,  —  The  first  criticism  that  revealed 
to  me  at  once  Emerson  and  yourself  was  one  that  in  the 
multitude  of  your  writings  you  may  have  forgotten.  I 
do  not  pay  any  debt  in  sending  you  mine,  but  a  small  per 
cent  of  it.  Always  truly  yours, 

Oliver  Wendell  Holmes. 

Mr.  Whipple  developed  literary  criticism  to  a  signifi- 
cance heretofore  unknown  in  our  country.  With  him  it 
was  the  supreme  work  of  his  life.  All  that  force  and 
vividness  and  keen  insight  and  creative  power  that 
might  have  poured  itself  in  various  other  literary 
channels  was  concentrated  in  his  criticism.  In  his 
hands  it  became  indeed  a  fine  art.  True  criticism 
is  creation,  not  disintegration,  and  this  truth  is  signally 
illustrated  in  Mr.  Whipple's  writings.  His  books  are 
an  immense  force,  a  vast  and  stimulating  positive  power, 
and  are  thus  among  the  great  aids  to  character- 
building. 

The  complete  collection  of  his  works  offers  a  mine  of 
literature  that  is  a  mine  of  thought  as  well.  His  essays 
fill  nine  volumes,  and  they  are  comprehensive  in  their 
inclusion  of  biography,  reminiscence,  and  comment. 
Then,  too,  Mr.  Whipple's  life  was  lived  in  the  very 
heart  of  the  most  interesting  literary  period  of  America, 
and  his  was  the  impressionable  temperament  to  take 
swift  account  and  unconscious  mental  record  that  later 
recorded  itself  in  his  exquisite  and  forcible  English. 


THE   GOLDEN   AGE   OF   GENIUS  207 

"  Scarcely  inferior  to  Macaulay  in  brilliancy  of  diction 
and  graphic  portraiture,"  wrote  Whittier  of  Whipple, 
"he  was  freer  from  prejudice  and  passion  and  more 
loyal  to  the  truth  of  fact  and  history.  He  was  a 
thoroughly  honest  man.  He  wrote  with  conscience 
always  at  his  elbow  and  never  sacrificed  his  real  con- 
victions for  the  sake  of  epigram  and  antithesis.  He 
instinctively  took  the  right  side  of  the  questions  that 
came  before  him  for  decision  even  when  by  so  doing  he 
ranked  himself  with  the  unpopular  minority.  He  had 
the  manliest  hatred  of  hypocrisy  and  meanness  ;  but  if 
his  language  had  at  the  time  the  severity  of  justice,  it 
was  never  merciless.  Never  blind  to  faults,  he  had  a 
quick  and  sympathetic  eye  for  any  real  excellence  or 
evidence  of  reserved  strength  in  the  author  under  dis- 
cussion. He  was  a  modest  man,  sinking  his  own 
personality  out  of  sight,  and  he  always  seemed  to  be 
more  interested  in  the  success  of  others  than  in  his 
own." 

The  collected  works  of  Mr.  Whipple  form  a  unique 
and  permanent  feature  of  American  literature.  They 
offer  a  feast  of  intellect  —  a  kind  of  splendid  celebration 
of  genius  in  all  its  phases  —  literary,  political,  philan- 
thropic, and  scientific.  He  has  written  of  the  Eliza- 
bethan literature,  of  Shakspeare,  Ben  Jonson,  the 
group  of  minor  dramatists,  of  Beaumont  and  Fletcher, 
Massinger  and  Ford,  of  Spenser  and  the  group  of  minor 
Elizabethan  poets,  of  Sidney  and  of  Raleigh,  Bacon, 
and  Hooker,  —  a  volume  which  is  held  as  one  of  the 
critical    authorities  in    university   study    and  literary 


208  BOSTON   DAYS 


societies;  a  volume  that  will  give  any  careful  reader 
a  clear  grasp  and  wide  knowledge  of  all  the  influences 
and  achievements  of  the  poets  and  dramatists  of  this 
period.  An  interesting  letter  from  George  William 
Curtis,  though  undated,  must  have  been  written  about 
this :  — 

Many  thanks,  dear  Mr.  Whipple,  for  the  omitted 
portions  of  your  article,  which  I  return  as  you  requested. 
They  are  sharp  enough,  and  tickle  my  heart  most  mightily. 
I  shall  look  forward  to  reading  the  article  when  it  comes 
out,  which  will  be  somewhere  in  the  middle  of  this  month. 
I  suppose  that  I  never  stayed  my  tongue  or  my  pen  from 
vituperation,  or  my  mind  from  a  wholesome  condemnation 
that  I  did  not  know  justice  to  be  more  pleased,  but  it  is 
very  much  temperament,  I  suppose,  as  so  many  virtues 
are.     We  cannot  spread  our  plumage  in  consequence. 

Grood  bye, 

Yours  very  truly, 

George  William  Curtis. 

In  the  two  volumes  of  "  Essays  and  Reviews  "  Mr. 
Whipple  discusses  Macaulay,  Wordsworth,  Byron, 
Shelley,  Scott,  Coleridge,  Keats,  Elizabeth  Browning, 
and  Tennyson ;  Daniel  Webster,  the  American  poets, 
Rufus  Choate,  Prescott,  Fielding,  the  British  critics  and 
the  elder  dramatists ;  in  his  "  Recollections  of  Eminent 
Men"  are  portrayed  with  the  vividness  of  the  vie 
intime  Agassiz,  Motley,  Emerson,  Sumner,  George, 
Ticknor,  and  Matthew  Arnold.  In  this  volume,  too,  is 
Mr.  Whipple's  great  critique  on  "Daniel  Deronda" 
and  his  famous  paper  on  "  George  Eliot's  Private  Life." 
He  writes  of  his  familiar  friend,  Thomas  Starr  King,  as 


-*:^ 


Edwin  P.  Whipple 


THE   GOLDEN   AGE   OF   GENIUS  209 

no  one  else  has  ever  done,  giving  an  interpretation  of 
his  character  and  gifts,  and  in  other  volumes  he  dis- 
cusses such  topics  as  "  Intellectual  Health  and  Disease," 
"Genius,"  "The  Ludicrous  Side  of  Life,"  "The  Sale  of 
Souls,"  "  The  Ethics  of  Popularity,"  and  contrasts  the 
English  and  American  mind.  In  a  paper  on  "  Charac- 
ter "  we  find  Mr.  Whipple  saying  :  "  Character  indicates 
the  degree  in  which  a  man  possesses  creative  spiritual 
energy ;  it  is  the  exact  measure  of  his  real  ability ;  is, 
in  short,  the  expression  of  the  man."  And  again  we 
find  this  epigrammatic  sentence  :  — 

"The  great  danger  of  the  conservative  is  his  tempta- 
tion to  surrender  character  and  trust  in  habits  ;  the  great 
danger  of  the  radical  is  his  temptation  to  discard  habits 
without  forming  character.  One  is  liable  to  mental 
apathy,  the  other  to  mental  anarchy;  and  apathy  and 
anarchy  are  equally  destitute  of  causative  force  and  essen- 
tial individuality." 

Edwin  Percy  Whipple  was  born  in  Gloucester,  Mass., 
in  1819,  and  died  at  his  home  in  Pinckney  Street, 
Boston,  in  1886.  Gloucester  is  a  town  of  some  fifty 
thousand  inhabitants,  on  the  north  shore,  thirty  miles 
from  Boston,  and  has  always  been  known  as  a  centre  of 
intelligence  and  standard  worth.  Coming  to  Boston  in 
his  early  youth,  Mr.  Whipple  met  and  married  Charlotte 
Hastings,  a  woman  of  noble  gifts  of  mind  and  heart, 
of  great  intellectual  force,  of  exquisite  culture,  of 
a  rare  balance  of  discrimination  and  sympathy,  and  a 
most  accomplished  woman  of  letters  and  of  society.     It 

14 


210  BOSTON   DAYS 


was  a  beautiful  wedded  life,  a  true  spiritual  marriage. 
Never  did  man  or  woman  more  closely  enter  into  each 
other's  experiences,  more  perfectly  sympathize  with  each 
other's  unspoken  thoughts  and  supplement  each  other's 
powers,  than  Edwin  Percy  and  Charlotte  (Hastings) 
Whipple.  She  gave  to  him  that  intellectual  compre- 
hension which  is  the  rarest  gift  of  wedded  life.  She 
shared  his  readings,  his  meditations,  his  aspirations,  his 
triumphs.  The  home  of  the  Whipples  was  for  thirty 
years  one  of  the  most  brilliant  social  centres  of  Boston. 
Their  "  Sunday  evenings  "  were  noted  gatherings,  and 
have  been  more  truly  the  salon  than  almost  any  other 
social  entertainments  in  the  city.  Mrs.  Whipple's  rare 
tact  and  grace,  her  vigorous  intellectual  power,  her 
artistic  skill  in  social  groupings,  made  these  evenings 
the  inflorescence  of  refined  and  intellectual  social  inter- 
course. In  her  parlors  would  gather  such  men  and 
women  as  the  Emersons,  the  Hawthornes,  Longfellow, 
Sumner,  Rufus  Choate,  Agassiz,  Dr.  Holmes,  Benjamin 
Peirce,  the  Alcotts,  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Howe,  Starr  King, 
Whittier,  Colonel  Higginson,  Helen  Hunt,  and  many  an- 
other. No  foreign  celebrity  visiting  Boston  found  his 
stay  complete  without  a  visit  to  the  Whipples,  and  this 
not  by  the  attractions  of  luxury,  the  elaborate  pomp  of 
ceremonial  splendor ;  not  by  "  gold  and  white  "  dinners 
and  "  pink  "  lunches,  and  elaborate  receptions  in  rooms 
filled  with  an  unmeaning  crowd ;  but  by  the  simple  and 
exquisite  grouping  of  men  and  women  who  were  simple, 
noble,  gifted,  and  sincere ;  who  stood  for  something  in 
the  world. 


THE   GOLDEN   AGE   OF   GENIUS  211 

The  home  of  the  Whipples,  where  Mrs.  Whipple  still 
lives,  is  a  modest  three-story  brick  house  with  plain 
square  windows  and  old-fashioned  entrance.  From  the 
hall  open  two  parlors,  which  have  been  the  scenes  of 
those  famous  and  brilliant  Sunday  evenings.  Back  of 
these  is  the  library,  well  stored  with  volumes  which 
look  as  if  they  had  been  the  every-day  property  of 
a  book-loving  household.  The  house  is  within  two 
minutes'  walk  of  the  State  House  and  of  the  Athenseum 
Library,  of  which  Mr.  Whipple  was  an  hahitiie.  He 
was  an  omnivorous  reader  and  absorbed  a  book,  as  it 
were,  on  the  moment.  He  often  changed  the  book  on 
his  card  twice  in  one  day.  In  the  brilliant  circle  of 
men  in  which  Mr.  Whipple  stood,  his  place  was  unique 
and  strongly  individual.  His  was  a  brilliant,  electric 
nature,  scintillating  with  wit  and  swift  flashes  of  rep- 
artee; instantly  responsive,  full  of  dramatic  sympathy 
and  play  of  imagination.  Mr.  Whipple's  presence  was 
an  embodied  inspiration,  and  his  qualities  were  the  key 
that  unlocked  natures  widely  different  from  his  own 
and  from  each  other.  The  mystic  serenity  of  Emerson, 
the  genial  sweetness  of  Longfellow,  the  sombre,  imagi- 
native isolation  of  Hawthorne,  were  all  responsive  to 
this  keen,  brilliant  mind,  whose  insight  and  power  made 
it  the  remarkable  force  it  was  in  American  literature, 
and  he  thus  became  inseparably  identified  with  our 
noblest  period  of  letters.  No  purely  creative  genius  for 
romance  or  poetry  has  been  a  more  important  factor  in 
the  development  and  progress  of  our  national  culture. 
For  the  critic,  as  the  poet,  is  born  and  not  made,  and 


212  BOSTON   DAYS 


our  great  critics  are  even  fewer  and  more  rare  than 
are  our  great  poets.  He  had,  for  literary  criticism,  a 
positive  genius.  He  brought  to  it  the  noblest  and  truest 
qualities,  —  those  of  swift  spiritual  insight,  —  an  insight 
so  keen  that  it  was  a  species  of  mental  clairvoyance,  a 
most  sensitively  delicate  and  appreciative  apprehension, 
and  a  power  of  dramatic  sympathy  that  has  seldom 
been  equalled  in  any  literature.  His  great  critique  on 
"  Daniel  Deronda  "  was  as  if  a  magnifying  glass  had 
been  placed  above  those  complex  human  motives  and 
passions  which  George  Eliot  so  marvellously  dramatized, 
and  we  were  invited  to  approach  and  behold  them.  It 
was  a  criticism  that  elicited  profound  gratitude  from 
George  Eliot  and  Mr.  Lewes,  that  gratitude  felt  by  the 
great  mind  to  one  who  enters  into  its  work  and  recog- 
nizes it  truly.  It  is  not  easy  to  estimate  the  influence 
on  a  young  school  of  literature  of  such  a  mind  as  this. 
Acute,  analytical,  swift  to  recognize  and  foster  genuine 
merit,  or  to  check  that  which  was  superficial  and  false, 
Edwin  P.  Whipple  was  an  elemental  power.  He 
entered  into  real  relations  with  men.  Starr  King, 
George  William  Curtis,  Henry  Ward  Beecher,  Bayard 
Taylor,  were  among  the  friends  and  comrades  of  his 
young  manhood.  His  reminiscences  of  those  days  scin- 
tillated with  glancing  wit  and  irresistible  picturing. 

There  was  a  movement  on  the  part  of  Charles  Sumner 
and  other  friends  to  give  Mr.  Whipple  the  degree  of 
LL.D.  from  Harvard,  — less  common  then  than  now,  •^- 
and  this  letter  from  Edward  Everett  (then  President  of 
Harvard)  to  Mr.  Sumner  refers  to  the  matter :  — 


THE   GOLDEN   AGE   OF   GENIUS  213 

Cambridge,  July  21,  1847. 

Deak  Sumnek,  — Yours  of  the  19th  reached  me  yester- 
day. I  consider  Mr.  Whipple  fully  entitled  to  the  degree 
of  A.  M.  Mrs.  Sydney  Smith  told  me  she  thought  his 
article  on  her  husband  the  most  just  she  had  read.  I  fear 
it  is  too  late  to  make  the  arrangement  this  year.  The 
overseers  meet  to-morrow  to  receive  the  proposal  of 
candidates  for  honorary  degrees.  One  special  meeting  of 
the  corporation  having  been  already  called  this  month,  I 
should  hardly  have  ventured  to  try  to  gather  them  from 
their  dispersion  at  their  dinners  for  another  extra  meeting 
to-day.  Indeed,  I  suppose  it  would  have  been  impossible 
to  convene  them.  The  overseers  meet  thus  early  because 
they  are  requested  by  a  standing  rule  of  their  body  to  hold 
all  questions  of  honorary  degrees  under  advisement  for 
thirty  days. 

I  am,  dear  sir,  with  much  regard, 

Sincerely  yours, 

Edwakd  Everett. 

To  Charles  Sumner. 

If,  as  Emerson  has  said,  "  nothing  is  secure  but  the 
energizing  spirit,"  this  spirit  depends  on  that  intense 
form  of  energy  generated  hy  mutual  sympathy  and 
recognition  and  love,  as  unfailingly  as  electricity  is 
generated  by  a  dynamo.  The  liberation  of  spirit  that 
thus  manifests  itself  in  an  affluence  of  poetry  and 
romance  was  its  power  to  the  force  generated  by  that 
mutual  sympathy  which  in  the  Boston  group  continually 
expressed  itself  in  copious  correspondence,  and  in  the 
verse  of  occasion  that  perpetually  made  festa  of  birth- 
days, arrivals,  and  departures,  and  that  poured  its  con- 
solation and  uplifting  prayers  when  death  and  sorrow 


214  BOSTON   DAYS 


invaded  this  choice  circle  and  invested  the  transition 
with  that  light  which  Dante  saw.  The  union  of  the 
closest  sympathies  of  social  intimacy  and  the  power  of 
poetic  expression  in  the  gifted  group  is  remarkable. 
Emerson  once  said  to  Miss  Peabody,  "  I  am  not  a  great 
poet,  but  whatever  there  is  of  me  is  a  poet ;  "  and  this 
temperament —  which  is  always  that  of  the  finer  insight, 
the  swift  sensitive  perception,  the  vital  response,  —  is 
marked  among  all  his  circle. 

"  'T  is  the  most  difficult  of  tasks  to  keep 

Heights  which  the  soul  is  competent  to  gain," 

says  Wordsworth,  but  the  Boston  literati  of  the  age 
when  all  the  air  was  fame  apparently  dwelt  habitually 
on  the  heights. 

Mr.  Whipple  was  a  very  genial  letter- writer,  and  to  a 
friend  who  had  sent  him  a  birthday  token  he  wrote : 

Boston,  April  20,  1885. 
Dear :  I  trust  you  will  not  consider  my  non- 
acknowledgment  of  your  birthday  gift  when  I  approached 
the  mature  age  of  sixty-six  as  any  sign  that  I  was  insen- 
sible to  your  kindness  and  attention.  It  was  my  only  gift 
on  the  occasion  of  the  8th  of  March,  but  the  truth  is,  that 
when  I  awoke  on  the  9th  of  March  and  saw  your  bloom- 
ing daffodils  I  found  that  a  chill  I  had  taken  the  day  or 
two  before  had  doomed  me  to  a  month's  illness.  I  recog- 
nized the  appropriateness  of  your  present;  for  who  can 
ever  forget  the  lines, 

"  Daffodils 
That  come  before  the  swallow  dares,  and  take 
The  winds  of  March  with  beauty." 


THE   GOLDEN   AGE   OF   GENIUS  215 

But  then,  you  know,  the  winds  of  this  March  blew 
from  some  Scandinavian  Inferno,  and  for  a  fortnight  my 
strength  withered  as  fast  as  the  flowers,  and  letter- writing 
was  impossible. 

I  write  now  with  a  new  cold,  spitefully  added  to  the  old, 
to  thank  you  most  cordially  for  your  kindly  remembrance. 
The  root  from  which  the  flowers  grew  is  still  vital,  and 
will  flower  again  when  I  am  more  capable  of  expressing 
my  pleasure  in  the  beauty  of  your  gift. 

Mrs.  Whipple,  I  need  not  say,  joins  me  in  all  good 
wishes,  and  I  remain,  as  ever. 

Very  sincerely  yours, 

Edwin  P.  Whipple. 

Mr.  Whipple  struck  the  keynote  of  his  literary  work 
by  a  paper  on  Macaulay  which  appeared  in  the  "  Boston 
Miscellany"  in  February,  1843.  English  essayists  read 
this  criticism  from  a  new  and  unknown  hand  with 
surprise  and  admiration,  and  Macaulay  himself  wrote  to 
the  young  critic  an  appreciative  and  complimentary 
letter.  His  future  was  now  determined.  At  twenty- 
four  years  of  age  this  young  man,  whose  education  had 
been  the  keen  absorbing  of  miscellaneous  opportunities 
rather  than  the  regulation  training  of  academic  life,  was 
fairly  launched  upon  a  tide  of  work  than  which  none 
was  more  needed  in  a  new  and  growing  country,  and 
for  which  no  one  had  his  peculiar  fitness. 

When  Mr.  Whipple's  book  entitled  "  Success  and  its 
Conditions,"  first  appeared,  Kate  Field  wrote  a  notable 
critique  on  it,  saying  that  the  book  is  one  to  conjure 
with,  and  that  among  all  the  brilliant  galaxy  of  the 
Boston  authors  of  the  golden  age  Mr.  Whipple  stands 


216  BOSTON   DAYS 


as  the  most  earnest  and  unassuming  of  men.  One  must 
dig  him  out  of  his  shell,  she  continued,  to  find  the  rich 
kernel  of  head  and  heart  that  are  always  true  to  prin- 
ciples and  friends,  always  generous  to  brother  authors, 
always  just  to  political  adversaries.  None  but  a  true 
man  could  have  written  his  fine  prose  poem  on  "  Jeanne 
d'Arc."  Possessing  a  terse,  vigorous  style,  critical  acu- 
men, a  richly  stored  mind,  and  intellectual  integrity, 
continued  Miss  Field,  Edwin  P.  Whipple  is  thoroughly 
competent  to  handle  any  subject  he  touches.  It  is  the 
divine  fire  of  youth's  enthusiasm  and  illuminates  the 
world,  and  he  is  right  in  declaring  that  "  wherever  we 
mark  a  great  movement  of  humanity  we  commonly 
detect  a  young  man  at  its  head  or  at  its  heart." 

There  was  an  atmosphere  of  sympathy  in  that  home 
on  Pinckney  Street  where  the  Whipples  kept  their  altar 
fire  burning,  to  which  all  the  galaxy  of  this  golden  age 
constantly  turned.  The  genial  humor  of  the  perpetual 
letter-writing  of  the  day  reveals  itself  in  this  note  from 
the  great  astronomer,  Professor  Peirce,  enclosing  tickets 
to  his  own  course  of  lectures  before  the  Lowell  Institute : 

Cambridge,  1879. 
My  dear  Whipple,  —  I  should  not  have  expected  such 
an  Indiscreet  promise  from  so  wise  a  man  and  the  hus- 
band of  so  wise  a  woman,  but  in  hopes  to  lighten  the 
burden  of  admiration  which  you  have  carelessly  awarded, 
I  enclose  three  tickets.  May  some  good  fortune  assist 
you  to  some  friend  of  weak  Intellect  who  may  relieve  you 
of  your  responsibility.  With  kindest  regards  to  Mrs. 
Whipple,  I  am  Ever  your  sincere  friend, 

Benjamin  Peirce. 


296.  Beacon  street.  ^^^^^  ■   7 


/l^ 


^^- /^  y^^  ft<u^^  ■      ^^^'^ 


^^^^.:,..>^^  ^^dt^Le.  ^^"-^^^-^^  ^^^-^e-^  ^^  ;^ 


THE   GOLDEN   AGE   OF   GENIUS  217 

When  Dr.  Holmes  had  finished  his  brilliant  and 
powerful  work,  "  A  Mortal  Antipathy/'  to  an  appreci- 
ative word  of  Mr.  Whipple's  he  thus  replied :  — 

November  23,  1885. 

My  dear  Whipple,  —  I  have  twenty-two  letters  before 
me  with  "  immediate  "  marked  on  the  margin,  but  I  must 
write  a  line  to  thank  you  for  your  most  welcome  and 
generous  letter.  I  needed  a  kind  word  from  a  friend 
whose  judgment  I  could  rely  upon,  and  I  have  it.  I  was 
somewhat  tired  after  finishing  my  memoir  of  Emerson, 
and  plunged  into  this  study  as  a  soldier  after  the  march 
goes  head-first  into  a  swift  and  cold  current.  I  did  not 
know  whether  it  would  chill  me  to  death  with  the  sudden 
change  of  temperature  from  a  life  history  to  a  fiction,  or 
dash  me  to  pieces  on  the  rock  of  impossibility,  for  I  feared 
I  could  not  make  my  gyration  seem  probable  enough  to 
interest  anybody. 

The  pleasant  words  of  your  letter  and  the  approval  of 
Mrs.  Whipple  as  well  as  yourself  have  made  this  stormy 
day  the  sunniest  I  have  seen  for  a  long  time.  The  mag- 
nificent nautilus  Mrs.  Whipple  gave  me  is  always  before 
my  eye  and  keeps  her  in  ever  fresh  remembrance. 
I  am,  my  dear  Whipple,  always  j^ours, 

Oliver  Wendell  Holmes. 

Again,  in  another  letter,  referring  to  Emerson,  Dr. 
Holmes  writes  :  — 

December,  1883. 
My  dear  Whipple,  —  I  am  sorry  that  you  have  lost 
sight  of  your  first  article  on  Emerson.  I  think  it  was  in 
the  ''  Times  "  of  that  day  that  I  saw  the  article  that  I  was 
thinking  of.  I  have  a  complete  set  of  the  "  North  Ameri- 
can Review "  and  Indices,  so  that  I  can  lay  my  hands 


218  BOSTON    DAYS 


at  once  on  the  two  articles  in  tliat  periodical.  If'yoii  can 
spare  or  lend  me  a  copy  of  the  one  in  "  Harper's  "  I  shall 
be  much  pleased  to  receive  it;  but  if  not  convenient,  I 
will  get  it  at  the  shops  or  from  one  of  the  other  Public 
Libraries.  I  have  never  forgotten  the  impression  your 
first  article  on  Emerson  produced  on  me,  and  I  wish  I 
could  find  it  now.  Faithfully  yours, 

Oliver  Wendell  Holmes. 

An  interesting  coincidence  in  comparing  Emerson  to 
Franklin  that  occurred  between  Dr.  Holmes,  Matthew 
Arnold,  and  Mr.  Whipple  is  thus  touched  upon  in  a 
letter  from  Dr.  Holmes :  — 

296  Beacon  St.,  Dec.  31,  1883. 

My  dear  Whipple,  —  A  thousand  thanks  for  your  most 
interesting  and  valuable  article  on  Emerson.  To  think 
I  should  have  thought  I  was  the  first  to  couple  Emerson 
with  Franklin.  My  poem  in  the  '*  Atlantic  "  in  which  the 
conjunction  occurs  was  all  printed  and  corrected  before 
Matthew  Arnold  delivered  the  lecture  in  which  he  married 
the  two  names,  and  now  it  seems  that  we  were  both 
jump-up-behinders. 

Well,  I  was  honest,  and  no  doubt  he  was.  I  can  only 
claim  that  I  put  a  pair  of  wings  on  the  old  gentleman 
who  was  a  rather  heavy  cherub.  I  have  no  doubt  we  steal 
(conscientiously)  a  great  deal  more  from  each  other  than 
we  are  aware  of.  You,  at  any  rate,  have  furnished  more 
people  with  good  printable  notions  than  you  will  ever  get 
credit  for,  and  I  have  no  doubt  that  before  I  get  through 
with  Emerson  I  shall  innocently  borrow  so  much  from 
you  that  if  my  pockets  were  turned  inside  out  you  could 
find  a  whole  scrap-bag  full  of  your  own  property. 
Always  faithfully, 

Oliver  Wendell  Holmes. 


THE   GOLDEN    AGE   OF   GENIUS  219 

An  amusing  little  story  of  Mrs.  Stowe  belongs  to 
these  days.  It  seems  that  a  dame  of  high  degree  who 
lived  in  Arlington  Street  which  was  called  then  "  very 
far  out,"  was  to  give  a  grand  reception  for  Mrs.  Fanny 
Kemble.  Mrs.  Stowe  had  come  in  town  from  some 
outlying  place,  —  Andover,  perhaps,  —  to  pass  the  day 
with  Mrs.  Fields,  who  invited  her  guest  to  remain  and 
go  with  her  to  the  festivity.  Mrs.  Stowe  made  some 
objection  regarding  her  little  black  gown  as  not  being 
suitable,  which  Mrs.  Fields  overruled  with  the  promise 
of  some  of  her  own  laces  and  adornments,  and  Mrs. 
Stowe,  who  never  thought  twice  of  her  clothes,  accepted 
the  suggestion  and  remained. 

The  evening  came,  and  literary  and  fashionable 
Boston  flocked  to  the  drawing-rooms  of  the  hostess, 
where  Mrs.  Kemble,  in  an  elaborate  costume  of 
purple  and  silver  brocade,  was  enthroned  in  the 
semi-royal  state  that  was  second  nature  to  her.  The 
guests  were  brought  up  and  duly  presented  to  the 
heroine  of  the  fete,  but  Mrs.  Stowe  meantime  had 
escaped  to  a  quiet  nook,  where,  with  Edwin  P. 
Whipple  for  an  audience,  she  was  deeply  absorbed  in 
recounting  her  experience  with  the  Brownings,  whom 
she  had  met  many  times  in  Europe,  and  with  whom  she 
had  enjoyed  many  interesting  conversations.  From  time 
to  time  the  hostess  came  up,  as  the  hostess  always 
feels  it  her  duty  to  break  up  an  absorbing  tSte-d-tSte, 
and  drag  her  victims  to  be  presented  to  some  stranger, 
but  Mrs.  Stowe  refused  to  be  interrupted,  and  the  time 
sped  by.     Mrs.  Kemble  left  early,  and  she  and  Mrs. 


220  BOSTON   DAYS 


Stowe  did  not,  therefore,  meet  at  all.  At  last  when  the 
evenmg  was  over  and  the  ladies  were  in  the  dressing-room 
putting  on  their  wraps,  Mrs.  Stowe  was  asked  by  some 
one  her  impressions  of  Mrs.  Kemble.  "  Why,  was  Mrs. 
Kemble  here  ?  "  she  explained,  having  utterly  forgotten 
the  purpose  for  which  Mrs.  Fields  had  entreated  her  to 
remain.  "  I  should  have  thought  she  would  have  asked 
to  be  presented  to  me  !  " 

The  naivet6  amused  Mrs.  Stowe's  friends,  for  never 
was  there  a  less  conscious  woman;  but  she  had  just 
returned  from  Europe,  where  every  one,  from  the 
crowned  heads  and  the  duchesses  to  the  untitled,  was 
anxious  to  meet  her,  and  the  impression  remained  on 
her  mind. 

The  Boston  of  those  days  dined  at  two  o'clock 
and  had  "tea"  at  night.  There  was  a  leisure  and, 
indeed,  one  must  concede  an  elegance,  too,  of  social 
life  that  had  its  choice  quality.  The  reminiscences  of 
the  Boston  whose  social  festivities  were  enriched  by  the 
presence  and  participation  of  Longfellow,  Lowell,  Emer- 
son, Professor  Peirce,  Motley,  Starr  King,  and  a  host  of 
others  of  gifts  and  rare  quality  are  more  and  more 
interesting  as  they  recede  into  a  very  definite  past. 

Dr.  Holmes  was  perhaps  less  apt  to  be  found  in  purely 
social  meetings  than  in  the  semi-ceremonial  gatherings, 
and  a  note  of  his  runs  thus :  — 

296  Beacon  St.,  November  15. 
My  dear  Mrs.  Whipple,  —  It  was  very  kind  in  you  to 
ask  Mrs.  Holmes  and  myself,  but  we  are  both  very  shy 
about  going  out  evenings.     I  hope  you  had  a  pleasant 


Mrs.  Edwin  P.  Whipple 


THE   GOLDEN   AGE   OF   GENIUS  221 

time,  and  know  that  you  and  Mr.  Whipple  can  never  fail 
to  find  good  company,  as  you  will  be  sure  to  make  it. 
Faithfully  yours, 

Oliver  "Wendell  Holmes. 

Prof.  Benjamin  Peirce  was  one  of  the  most  inti- 
mate of  the  choice  circle  that  gathered  around  the 
Whipples.  The  great  astronomer  and  scientist  was 
identified  with  the  Harvard  Observatory  over  a  long 
period  of  years,  and  he  was  not  only  a  great  scientist, 
but  a  great  man ;  one  whose  exaltation  of  nature  made 
him  one  of  the  most  important  leaders  in  the  advance- 
ment and  elevation  of  human  progress.  His  life  stood, 
not  only  for  achievement,  but  for  the  radiation  of  influ- 
ence. The  quality  of  his  genius  was  so  lofty  that  one 
who  comes  now  to  approach  him  through  his  writings 
alone  is  amazed  to  find  how  incommensurate  with  his 
greatness  is  the  general  recognition. 

Professor  Peirce  was  one  of  that  remarkable  galaxy 
of  brilliant  men  born  in  New  England  during  the  first 
quarter  of  the  century.  His  father,  the  elder  Benjamin 
Peirce,  had  been  a  Harvard  man  before  him,  and  was 
for  many  years  the  college  librarian.  His  mother  was 
a  woman  gently  born  and  bred  and  of  no  little  literary 
culture.  Benjamin  Peirce  was  born  in  Salem  in  1809, 
almost  contemporary  with  Dr.  Holmes,  and  he  gradu- 
ated from  Harvard  in  1829,  James  Freeman  Clarke  and 
Dr.  Holmes  being  among  his  classmates.  For  some  two 
years  after  this  he  was  a  teacher  in  the  famous  school 
for  boys  at  Round  Hill,  Northampton,  Mass.,   where 


222  BOSTON   DAYS 


Motley  passed  his  early  school-days.  In  1833  he  was 
given  a  tutorship  at  Harvard,  and  soon  afterward  was 
made  university  professor  of  mathematics,  and  natural 
philosophy.  In  1842  he  was  made  the  Perkins  professor 
of  astronomy  and  mathematics  and  he  gave  a  service  of 
fifty  years  to  Harvard  before  his  death  in  October  of 
1880,  in  the  seventy-second  year  of  his  age. 

This  mere  outline  of  facts  and  dates  offers  little  sug- 
gestion of  his  lofty  intelligence,  his  enthusiasm  for 
wisdom,  his  impressive  personal  influence,  and  his 
insight  into  spiritual  laws.  It  was  the  latter,  indeed, 
that  made  his  life  and  work  so  rich,  and  that  invites 
contemplation. 

In  his  mathematical  work  Professor  Peirce  was  held 
to  rank  with  La  Place  and  Euler.  He  extended  the 
field  of  mathematical  research.  He  infused  into  the 
science  of  numbers  speculative  vitality,  imaginative 
power,  and  an  artistic  selection.  In  a  series  of  text- 
books entitled,  ""  Curves,  Functions,  and  Forces,"  he 
made  a  permanent  impression  upon  the  methods  of 
teaching  all  over  the  country.  It  is  he  who  introduced 
infinitesimals  into  elementary  mathematics,  and  thus 
even  his  text-books  bear  the  stamp  of  his  own  personal 
force.  He  prepared  the  lunar  tables  for  the  nautical 
almanac  of  1852.  For  the  succeeding  four  years  he 
was  engaged  in  the  investigation  of  the  rings  of  Saturn, 
and  he  discovered  and  demonstrated  that  they  were  not 
solid,  but  fluid,  and  were  sustained  by  the  planet's 
satellites.  Professor  Peirce  was  engaged  in  the  United 
States  coast  survey  from  1867-74.     Among  his  books 


THE   GOLDEN   AGE   OF   GENIUS  223 

that  followed  this  period  are  three  that  are  singularly 
imbued  with  philosophic  thought,  although  they  are 
strictly  mathematical  and  scientific  works,  dealing  vari- 
ously with  Mechanics,  Physics,  and  with  Morphology. 
While  these  are  eminent  hand-books  for  the  specialist, 
they  are  also  deeply  fascinating  to  the  general  reader. 
"  Every  portion  of  the  material  universe,"  he  says,  "  is 
pervaded  by  the  same  laws  of  mechanical  action  which 
are  incorporated  into  the  very  constitution  of  the 
human  mind." 

Honors  and  troops  of  friends  attended  his  life.  He 
received  the  degree  of  LL.D.  both  from  the  University 
of  North  Carolina  and  his  own  alma  mater ;  he  was 
elected  an  associate  of  the  Royal  Astronomical  Society 
in  London,  of  the  Royal  Society,  an  Honorary  Fellow  of 
the  Imperial  University  at  St.  Vladimir,  and  a  member 
of  the  Royal  societies  of  Edinburgh  and  Gottingen.  It 
is  an  open  question  if  any  other  of  the  great  men  of  his 
time  aroused  such  personal  enthusiasm  as  did  Professor 
Peirce,  who  was  beloved  to  the  point  of  an  idolizing 
affection.  He  was  so  responsive,  so  sympathetic,  and, 
above  all,  so  inspiring.  He  stimulated  the  best  in  every 
one  who  came  near  him,  and  what  more  marvellous 
power  can  there  be  than  this  ?  His  sympathetic  in- 
clusiveness  of  interests  included  pure  literature,  the 
drama,  the  opera,  to  a  degree  that  on  poem,  or  play,  or 
lyric  artist  his  criticism  was  almost  equally  valuable. 

One  of  the  noblest  sermons  of  Phillips  Brooks  is 
entitled  ^'  The  Symmetry  of  Life,"  in  which  he  speaks 
of  the   length   and   breadth   and   height   of  life;   the 


224  BOSTON   DAYS 


length,  in  the  life  of  activity  and  thought  and  self- 
development ;  the  breadth,  in  that  diffusive  tendency 
which  is  always  drawing  a  man  outward  into  sympathy 
with  other  men,  and  the  height  —  *'  in  its  reach  upward 
toward  God."  And  then,  picturing  ideal  manhood,  he 
emphasized  the  symmetry  in  these  words :  — 

"  It  must  be  that  forever  before  each  glorified  spirit  in  the 
other  life  there  shall  be  set  one  goal  of  peculiar  ambition, 
his  goal,  after  which  he  is  peculiarly  to  strive,  the  struggle 
after  which  is  to  make  his  eternal  life  to  be  forever  dif- 
ferent from  every  other  among  all  the  hosts  of  heaven. 
And  yet  it  must  be  that  as  each  soul  strives  toward  his 
own  attainment  he  shall  be  knit  forever  into  closer  and 
closer  union  with  all  the  other  countless  souls  which  are 
striving  after  theirs.  And  the  inspiring  power  of  it  all, 
the  source  of  all  the  energy  and  all  the  love,  must  then 
be  clear  beyond  all  doubt;  the  ceaseless  flood  of  light 
forever  pouring  forth  from  the  self-living  God  to  fill  and 
feed  the  open  lives  of  his  redeemed  who  live  by  him. 
There  is  the  symmetry  of  manhood  perfect.  There,  in 
redeemed  and  glorified  human  nature,  is  the  true  heavenly 
Jerusalem.'* 

This  ideal  suggests  the  realization  of  Professor  Peirce . 
Strong  in  his  own  personal  work  and  aims,  broad  in  his 
sympathies  with  his  fellow-men,  and  ever  and  always 
aspiring  toward  the  divine,  —  what  wonder  that  his  life 
leaves  an  influence  that  is  destined  to  extend  still  more 
widely.  It  was  good  for  all  to  be  brought  in  touch 
with  such  a  man.  Rev.  Dr.  Bartol  says  of  him  that  he 
belonged  to  the  same  class  of  minds  as  Newton,  Kepler, 
Swedenbofg,  and  Plato.     His  books  are  characterized 


THE   GOLDEN   AGE   OF   GENIUS  225 

by  work  involving  such  profound  thought,  such  mar- 
vellously speculative  apprehension  of  divine  laws,  that 
they  open  to  the  reader  undreamed  vistas  of  spiritual 
life. 

With  any  reminiscence  of  Dr.  Peirce  must  be  asso- 
ciated the  memorial  poem  written  of  him  by  Dr.  Holmes, 
—  a  poem  singularly  full  of  intimations  of  the  sublimity 
of  the  heavens  :  — 

"  For  him  the  Architect  of  all 
Unroofed  an  planet's  star-lit  ball ; 
Through  voids  unknown  to  worlds  unseen 
His  clearer  vision  rose  serene. 

"  With  us  on  earth  he  walked  by  day  ; 
His  midnight  path,  how  far  away ! 
We  knew  him  not  so  well  who  knew 
The  patient  eyes  his  soul  looked  through. 

"To  him  the  wandering  stars  revealed 
The  secrets  in  their  cradle  sealed." 

It  was  an  event  in  the  history  of  progress  when 
Professor  Peirce  delivered,  before  the  Lowell  Institute, 
in  1877-78,  a  course  of  lectures  on  "  Ideality  in 
Science,"  which  he  afterward  repeated  before  the 
Peabody  Listitute  in  Baltimore.  In  the  opening  one 
he  says  of  the  computation  of  the  geometer  that,  "  how- 
ever tedious  it  may  be,  it  has  a  loftier  aspiration.  It 
provides  spiritual  nourishment ;  hence  it  is  life  itself, 
and  is  the  worthy  occupation  of  an  immortal  soul." 

These  lectures  were  fortunately  published  in  a  vol- 
ume ("  Ideality  in  Science  "),  so  that  they  are  readily 
accessible.     What  a  wonderful  passage  is  this !  — 

15 


226  BOSTON   DAYS 


"  What  is  this  which  we  call  fact  ?  It  is  not  a  sound ; 
it  is  not  a  star.  It  is  sound  heard  b}^  the  ear  ;  it  is  a  star 
seen  by  the  eye.  In  the  simplest  case  it  is  the  spiritual 
recognition  of  material  existence.  .  .  .  There  are  even 
physical  facts  of  which  the  knowledge  is  wholly  mental 
and  of  which  there  is  no  direct  evidence  to  the  senses. 
It  is  undoubted  that  there  are  sounds  which  are  inaudible 
to  some  ears  and  colors  which  are  invisible  to  certain 
eyes.  It  is  equally  undoubted  that  there  are  innumerable 
vibrations  coursing  through  space  which  make  no  sensi- 
ble impression  on  any  auditory  or  visual  organ,  or  on  any 
human  nerve.  Such  facts,  known  through  our  powers  of 
reasoning,  are  to  us  non-existent,  except  as  pictures  on 
the  imagination." 

And  again :  — 

"  What  is  man?  What  a  strange  union  of  matter  and 
mind !  A  machine  for  converting  material  into  spiritual 
force.  A  soul  imprisoned  in  a  body  !  .  .  .  The  body  is 
the  vocal  instrument  through  which  the  soul  communicates 
with  other  souls,  with  its  i^ast  self,  and  even,  perhaps, 
with  its  God.  Were  the  communication  between  soul  and 
soul  direct  and  immediate  there  would  be  no  protec- 
tion for  thought;  and  there  would  be  no  such  thing  as 
personality  and  individuality.  The  body  is  needed  to 
hold  souls  apart  and  to  preserve  their  independence  as 
well  as  for  conversation  and  mutual  sympathy.  Hence 
body  and  matter  are  essential  to  man's  true  existence. 
The  soul  that  leaves  this  earthly  body  still  requires  in- 
corporation. The  grandest  philosopher  who  has  ever 
speculated  upon  this  theme  has  told  us  that  there  are 
celestial  bodies  as  well  as  bodies  terrestrial." 

Such  a  voice  is  not  silenced  by  death,  and  the  work 
and  influence  of  Professor  Peirce  are  constantly  widening. 


THE   GOLDEN   AGE   OF   GENIUS  227 

The  interblending  of  the  little  coteries  and  groups  of 
the  choice  spirits  that  made  the  golden  age  of  American 
literature  is  interesting  to  note.  Lowell  and  Long- 
fellow were  neighbors  and  friends  in  Cambridge  ;  there, 
too,  lived  Charles  Eliot  Norton,  who,  of  all  Lowell's 
circle,  was  the  nearest  to  the  poet,  as  Sumner  was  to 
Longfellow  ;  Emerson  and  Alcott,  closely  conjoined,  not 
merely  by  locale,  for  social  sympathies  know  nothing  of 
geographical  relations,  but  by  ties  of  spirit ;  Dr.  Holmes 
and  James  Freeman  Clarke  in  responsive  accord ;  and 
with  all  these  and  others,  in  harmonious  mutual  blend- 
ing, Mr.  Whipple  was  intimately  associated  as  critic  and 
friend. 

The  most  important  literary  event  in  the  last  half  of 
the  Nineteenth  century  was  the  founding  of  the  ^^  At- 
lantic Monthly,"  which  was  christened  by  Dr.  Holmes. 

The  new  periodical,  first  seen  as  in  vision  by  Mr. 
Francis  Henry  Underwood  —  the  literary  adviser  for  the 
publishing  house  of  Phillips  and  Sampson  in  Boston  — 
was  suggested  by  Mr.  Underwood  to  the  publishing 
house.  The  idea  incited  the  sympathy  of  Mr.  Phillips 
and  he  resolved  to  give  a  dinner  at  the  Parker  House 
(on  May  5,  1857)  to  consult  the  writers  on  whom  the 
project  must  chiefly  rely  for  a  corps  of  contributors. 
The  guests  invited  were  Emerson,  Longfellow,  Lowell, 
Motley,  Dr.  Holmes,  Whipple,  and  J.  Eliot  Cabot,  —  a 
^^  brilliant  constellation  of  philosophic,  poetic,  and  his- 
torical talent,"  as  Mr.  Underwood  recorded.  Mrs. 
Stowe's  co-operation  was  immediately  sought.  Her 
"  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin  "  had  been  published  in  1853,  and 


228  BOSTON   DAYS 


"Dred"  was  at  this  time  about  being  issued.  Her 
story  called  "The  Minister's  Wooing"  opened  in  the 
"Atlantic"  in  December  of  1858.  Mr.  Lowell  ac- 
cepted the  editorship ;  and  when  Emerson  inquired  as 
to  whether  the  contributions  were  to  be  signed,  Mr. 
Lowell  replied  in  the  negative  but  added :  "  You  will 
be  quite  helpless,  for  your  name  is  written  in  all  kinds 
of  self-betraying  anagrams  all  over  yours." 

The  initial  number  of  the  new  magazine  which  was 
destined  to  inaugurate  an  era  in  American  literature  and 
which  has  always  kept  faith  with  its  high  ideals,  was 
enriched  with  four  poems  of  Emerson's,  —  "  Brahma," 
"Days,"  "The  Romany  Girl,"  and  "The  Chartist's 
Complaint."  It  seems  that  this  group  was  sent  in  order 
that  Mr.  Lowell  might  select  one  from  them ;  but  he 
published  all  and  said,  "I  will  never  be  so  rapacious 
again  till  I  have  another  so  good  a  chance." 

Mr.  Scudder  in  his  biography  of  Mr.  Lowell  notes  that 
of  all  these  poems  it  was  "  Brahma  "  that  seized  upon 
the  imagination,  and  he  quotes  Mr.  Trowbridge  as  say- 
ing that  it  was  "  more  talked  about  and  puzzled  over 
and  parodied  than  any  other  poem  of  sixteen  lines 
published  within  my  recollection."  Lowell  himself 
said  of  this  poem  that  the  line, — 

"  When  me  they  fly  I  am  the  wingrf ;  " 

"  abides  with  me  as  an  intimate,"  and  that  "  meaning  is 
crammed  into  it  as  with  an  hydraulic  press."  The  initial 
number  of  the  "  Atlantic  "  was  also  made  memorable 
by   containing    Mr.   Whittier's    '^  Tritonius,"    and    in 


THE   GOLDEN   AGE   OF   GENIUS  229 

the  second  number  appeared  "  Skipper  Ireson's  Ride." 
Later  came  the  serial  publication  of  that  inimitable 
creation  by  Dr.  Holmes,  "  The  Professor  at  the  Break- 
fast Table/'  followed  by  "  The  Poet  at  the  Breakfast 
Table."  Colonel  Higginson  contributed  prose  romance 
and  poems  ;  Richard  Grant  White  first  published  in  the 
^^ Atlantic"  his  Shakspearian  criticism;  Mr.  Lowell's 
"  The  Biglow  Papers  "  first  appeared  in  the  '^  Atlantic ; " 
Harriet  Prescott  (later  Mrs.  SpofFord)  arrested  atten- 
tion with  her  story  "  In  a  Cellar ; "  and  poems  from 
Longfellow,  essays  and  criticism  by  Mr.  Whipple,  and  a 
story  called  ^'  Pink  and  Blue  "  by  Abby  Morton  Diaz 
contributed  to  the  blaze  of  glory  with  which  the  new 
venture  was  invested. 

In  1861  Mr.  James  T.  Fields  succeeded  Mr.  Lowell 
as  the  editor  of  the  new  magazine. 

About  the  time  of  the  founding  of  the  "Atlantic 
Monthly  "  there  was  inaugurated  the  "  Saturday  Club," 
among  whose  members  were  Emerson,  Hawthorne, 
Longfellow,  Motley,  Whipple,  Whittier,  Agassiz,  Prof. 
Benjamin  Peirce,  Sumner,  R.  H.  Dana,  Dr.  Holmes, 
Governor  Andrew,  Charles  Eliot  Norton,  Henry  James 
(the  elder),  James  Freeman  Clarke,  Judge  Hoar,  Pres- 
cott, and  later  still.  President  Eliot,  Howells,  Aldrich, 
and  Phillips  Brooks.  The  scofifers  —  for  there  always  is 
a  scoffer  —  termed  this  club  "  The  Mutual  Admiration 
Society,"  to  which  Dr.  Holmes  retorted  that  "  if  there 
was  not  a  certain  amount  of  mutual  admiration,  it  was 
a  great  pity  and  implied  a  defect  in  the  nature  of  men 
who  were  otherwise  largely  endowed." 


230  BOSTON   DAYS 


The  poems  and  essays  of  Emerson  continued  to 
appear  frequently  in  the  ^'  Atlantic ; "  and  regarding  a 
paper  by  Mr.  Whipple— which  Cornelius  Conway  Felton 
of  Harvard  mistook  for  one  of  Emerson's, — Professor 
Felton  wrote  to  Emerson  as  follows  :  — 

Cambridge,  April  21,  1858. 
My  dear  Mr.  Emerson,  —  I  have  this  moment  read 
an  article  in  the  ' '  Atlantic  "  which  is  attributed  I  presume 
truly  to  you,  on  "  Intellectual  Character,"  and  while  the 
impression  of  its  admirable  depth,  style,  reasoning,  and 
purport  is  fresh  upon  me,  I  want  to  express  to  you  my 
thanks  for  it  and  my  sense  of  the  importance,  the  un- 
speakable importance,  of  the  principles  it  develops.  I 
wish  the  article  could  be  printed  as  a  hand-book  —  a 
revised  pamphlet  —  and  a  copy  of  it  placed  in  the  hands 
of  every  student  in  every  college,  and  in  that  of  every 
man  and  woman,  —  the  great  college  of  society.  I  do 
not  know  that  I  have  ever  read  an  essay  which  contained 
more  sound,  healthy,  practical  truth  tersely  expressed. 
It  will  benefit  minds  of  every  stage  and  every  age.  I 
have  just  turned  the  half-century  corner  and  I  feel  that 
I  may  apply  its  philosophy  for  the  future  ;  and  if  I  had 
fallen  in  with  a  similar  exposition  of  such  a  doctrine 
thirty  years  ago  I  should  have  had  thirty  more  years  of 
intellectual  benefit.  One  of  the  consolations  of  a  long  and 
tedious  but  not  utterly  disabling  illness  such  as  I  have  just 
been  passing  through  is  that  it  gives  one  freedom  and  time 
to  read,  pause,  and  inwardly  digest  (when  one  can  digest 
little  else)  portions  of  the  great  masters  of  thought,  —  an 
essay  of  Bacon,  —  a  tragedy  of  ^schylus,  —  the  sixth 
and  twenty-fourth  books  of  the  Iliad,  —  a  passage  from 
Montaigne,  a  canto  of  Dante,  an  Introduction  of  Agassiz, 
or  such  a  paper  as  "  Intellectual  Character." 


^   ^4.^^/^  /U'^ 


/O     £cur^  /^4^^C//^^     W 


/Ac    A'it^^'i^e^ 


A--. 


^P-^^^^^^s-^      /tCeC — > 


/ 


-^  ^      {o,     jMj^, 


0  <A^'    OiA/v-v^^    (/  ^^ 


THE   GOLDEN   AGE   OF   GENIUS  231 

I  wish  I  could  have  heard  your  lecture,  but  I  was  not 
well  enough  at  the  time.  I  set  out  soon  for  Athens  to 
renew  my  personal  acquaintance  with  the  Parthenon, 
Propylapum,  Mars  Hill,  the  Prison  of  Socrates,  the 
Beacon  of  Demosthenes,  the  University  of  Athens  and 
its  professors,  —  in  the  leafy  month  of  June.  Can  I  do 
anything  for  you  in  the  beloved  city  of  Athenia  ? 
Ever  truly  yours, 

Cornelius  C.  Felton. 

Mr.  Emerson  immediately  sent  this  letter  to  Mr. 
Whipple  with  an  accompanying  note  of  his  own  which 

thus  runs :  — 

Concord,  April  22,  1858. 

Mt  dear  Whipple,  —  I  found  at  home  to-day  a  rare 
compliment,  a  letter  from  the  Greek  professor  in  Harvard 
University,  perhaps  the  first  letter  I  ever  had  from  him, 
full  of  praises  of  something  of  mine.  You  may  well  sup- 
pose my  old  eyes  were  a  little  dazzled  and  could  not  make 
out  anything  distinctly,  but  that  I  had  written  something 
singularly  good  to  extort  such  commendation. 

But  pride  promptly  came  down,  and  as  soon  as  my  eyes 
cleared  a  little  from  this  glory,  and  I  could  make  out  the 
words  clearly,  it  was  all  a  eulogy,  —  very  just  and  true, 
be  sure,  — but  of  your  article,  not  mine.  So  I  send  you 
the  letter,  and  if  your  eyes  are  dim  Mrs.  Whipple  shall 
read  it  to  you.  Not  to  lose  all  the  benefit,  I  hastened 
to  get  the  "  Atlantic"  which  I  had  not  read,  and  have 
read  the  paper  myself,  and  I  think  the  professor's  ad- 
miration is  honorable  to  him  and  to  you,  and  when  you 
have  done  as  he  bids  you  I  will  subscribe  for  twenty-five 
copies. 

Yours  faithfully, 

Ralph  Waldo  Emerson. 


232  BOSTON   DAYS 


The  home  of  Emerson  was  at  this  time  a  most  hos- 
pitable centre  of  social  life. 

"  Happy  places  have  grown  holy ;  if  we  go  where  once  we  went, 
Only  tears  will  fall  down  slowly,  as  at  solemn  sacrament." 

These  lines  may  suggest  themselves  now  to  one  as  he 
passes  under  the  tall  chestnut-trees  that  stand  at  the 
gateway  of  Emerson's  home,  and  listens  for  a  moment 
to  the  wind  and  the  pine-trees  above.  The  gate  stands 
hospitably  ajar  and  a  flagstone  path  leads  to  the  door. 
As  it  opens,  one  steps  into  a  hall  running  the  depth  of 
the  house,  and  notes  hanging  above  the  table  an  old 
picture  of  Ganymede.  At  the  right  a  door  opens  into 
the  study  —  his  study  —  and  one  passes  reverently  across 
the  threshold.  The  room  remains  in  all  respects  as  Mr. 
Emerson  left  it.  For  all  token  of  absence  he  might  well 
have  stepped  into  the  adjoining  room.  In  the  centre 
is  a  large  table.  It  is  piled  with  books.  On  one  side 
lies  the  little  blotting  pad  with  sheets  of  paper,  and  by  it 
a  pen,  and  ink  bottle.  This  is  all  the  paraphernalia  of 
Emerson's  writing  materials.  No  desk  with  its  pigeon- 
holes of  litter  ;  no  array  of  '^reference  "  books ;  nothing 
of  the  usual  machinery  of  the  professional  litterateur,  and 
this  absence  of  all  literary  mechanism  impresses  the  visi- 
tor. Emerson  had  a  habit  of  writing  on  half-sheets  of 
paper,  letting  them  fall  on  the  floor  until  they  covered  it 
like  snowflakes.  It  was  in  this  manner  that  the  "  Volun- 
taries "  was  written,  one  morning  before  breakfast, 
when  he  was  a  guest  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Fields,  and  on 
his  asking  them  to  come  to  his  room  and  hear  it,  the 


THE   GOLDEN   AGE   OF   GENIUS  233 

poem  was  found  on  these  scattered  sheets  all  over  the 
carpet.  Mr.  Emerson  asked  Mrs.  Fields  for  a  name  for 
the  poem,  and  she  gave  it  the  perfect  title,  "  Volun- 
taries." It  is  in  this  poem  that  the  immortal  lines 
occur : — 

"  So  nigh  is  grandeur  to  our  dust, 
So  near  to  God  is  man. 
When  duty  whispers  low.  Thou  must. 
The  youth  replies,  I  can^ 

The  absence  of  all  literary  mechanism  impresses  one 
with  the  peculiar  spirituality  of  Emerson's  message. 
Direct  from  heaven  it  seemed  to  fall  on  the  white 
paper.  No  material  medium  interposed.  He  kept 
himself  unencumbered  by  detail  and  free  to  receive 
spiritual  impressions.  The  quality  of  his  life  permitted 
him  to  transmit  and  transcribe  them.  ^^My  whole 
philosophy,  which  is  very  real,"  he  once  wrote,  ^'  teaches 
acquiescence  and  optimism.  Sure  I  am  that  the  right 
word  will  be  spoken,  though  I  cut  out  my  tongue."  In 
his  discourse  on  Emerson  Matthew  Arnold  felicitously 
said  :  "  Happiness  in  labor,  righteousness,  and  veracity ; 
in  all  the  life  of  the  spirit,  happiness  and  eternal  hope  ; 
that  was  Emerson's  gospel.  .  .  .  But  by  his  conviction 
that  the  life  of  the  spirit  is  happiness,  and  by  his  hope 
that  this  life  of  the  spirit  will  come  more  and  more  to 
be  sanely  understood,  and  to  prevail  and  to  work  for 
happiness,  —  by  this  conviction  and  hope  Emerson  was 
great."  These  words  depict  the  dignity,  the  serenity, 
and  spiritual  poise  of  Emerson's  character.  Over  the 
low  mantelpiece  hangs  a  fine  copy  of  Michael  Angelo's 


234  BOSTON   DAYS 


"Fates,"  a  gift  from  Carlyle,  who  wrote  accompany- 
ing it :  — 

...  "I  am  sending  a  small  memorial  of  me  to  your 
wife ;  a  poor  print  rolled  about  a  bit  of  wood ;  let  her 
receive  it  graciously  in  defect  of  better.  Properly  it  is 
my  wife's  memorial  to  your  wife.  It  is  to  be  hung  up  in 
the  Concord  drawing-room.  The  two  households  divided 
by  wide  seas  are  to  understand  always  that  they  are 
united  nevertheless." 

There  is  a  curious  old  Egyptian  idol,  Chinese  en- 
gravings on  the  walls,  and  busts  of  celebrated  men 
stand  here  and  there  about  the  room.  On  either  side 
the  fireplace  two  doors  open  into  the  sunny  south  par- 
lor, where  a  crimson  carpet  gleams  like  a  warm  welcome, 
and  window  draperies  of  the  same  rich,  warm  color  are 
swept  back  revealing  the  view  of  low  hills  crowned 
with  pine-trees,  far  across  the  quiet  meadows.  All  the 
landscape  is  in  a  minor  key,  still,  unaccentuated,  full  of 
a  peace  that  is  not  yet  stagnation.  In  this  room  hangs 
the  picture  —  an  old  Italian  engraving  of  a  sun-god  — 
which  was  also  a  gift  from  Carlyle,  —  his  marriage 
gift,  to  Mrs.  Emerson. 

It  bears  on  the  back  a  slip  of  paper  pasted  on  the 
boards,  on  which  is  written,  in  Carlyle's  own  handwriting, 
a  little  inscription.  Something  to  the  effect  that  this 
picture  is  for  the  lady  of  the  Concord  home,  from  one 
whose  household  will  ever  have  cause  to  remember 
hers,  and  signed  T.  Carlyle.  The  visitor  looks  long  and 
lingeringly  at  this  choice  token,  and  perchance  in 
memory  he  finds  some  stray  echoes  of  a  letter  which  in 


THE-  GOLDEN   AGE   OF   GENIUS  235 

1841  Carljle  wrote  to  Mrs.  Emerson,  saying  to  her  : 
"  You  are  an  enthusiast ;  make  Arabian  Nights  out  of 
dull,  foggy  London  days ;  with  your  beautiful  female 
imagination  shape  burnished  copper  castles  out  of 
London  fog.  It  is  very  beautiful  of  you,  —  nay,  it  is 
not  foolish  either,  it  is  wise.  .  .  .  Your  message  shall 
reach  Miss  Martineau ;  my  Dame  will  send  it  in  her 
first  letter.  The  good  Harriet  is  not  well,  but  keeps  a 
very  courageous  heart.  She  lives  by  the  shore  of  the 
beautiful  Northumbrian  sea."  It  was  out  of  this  home 
that  Emerson  wrote  to  Carlyle,  "Your  rooms  in 
America  are  waiting  for  you,  and  my  wife  is  making 
ready  a  closet  for  Mrs.  Carlyle."  It  was  out  of  this 
home,  too,  that  Miss  Martineau  wrote  to  Carlyle  that 
Emerson  was  "the  only  man  in  America  who  had 
quietly  sat  himself  down  on  a  competency  to  follow  his 
own  path  and  do  the  work  his  own  will  prescribed  for 
him."  Carlyle  tells  this  to  Emerson,  and  says  :  "  Pity 
that  you  were  the  only  one  I  but  be  one,  nevertheless ; 
be  the  first  and  there  will  come  a  second  and  a  third. 
It  is  a  poor  country  where  all  men  are  sold  to  Mammon, 
and  one  can  make  nothing  but  railways  and  bursts  of 
parliamentary  eloquence." 

A  beautiful  portrait  of  Emerson's  daughter  Edith 
(Mrs.  Forbes)  hangs  in  the  sunny  parlor,  the  room  in 
which  social  groups  including  almost  every  famous 
person  who  has  visited  America  have  gathered;  the 
room  where  the  famous  "  conversations "  were  held, 
when  Alcott  and  Margaret  Fuller  joined  the  circle. 

Dr.  Holmes  says  of  Emerson,  in  retrospective  review 


236  BOSTON   DAYS 


of  his  character  and  achievements,  —  that  he  ^'  shaped 
an  ideal  for  the  commonest  life,  he  proposed  an  object 
to  the  humblest  seeker  after  truth."  No  more  perfect 
characterization  was  ever  made. 

Dr.  Holmes  had  the  gift  of  insight  to  a  degree  so 
remarkable  as  to  be  fairly  that  of  divination.  He  was, 
indeed,  the  most  unique  figure  in  American  literature. 
He  united  wit  and  profundity,  ideal  and  speculative 
power,  and  accurate  and  practical  research,  imaginative 
range  and  microscopic  observation.  He  was  a  satirist 
without  a  sting,  a  scholar  without  pedantry,  a  polished 
man  of  the  world  without  undue  worldliness,  a  psy- 
chologist and  a  scientist,  a  poet  whose  keenest  wit  was 
allied  to  pathos.  Brilliant  and  humorous  as  he  was,  he 
was  as  full  of  sympathy  and  tenderness  ;  and  perhaps  the 
one  strongest  element  in  his  many-faceted  character  was 
his  sweetness  of  nature.  He  was  admired  and  praised ; 
but,  better  than  all,  he  was  beloved. 

Born  in  the  Brahmin  caste  of  New  England,  he  was 
an  aristocrat  of  the  ideal  order  ;  of  the  order  that  tests 
its  life  by  noblesse  oblige  ;  of  the  order  whose  pride  is 
that  which  is  too  proud  ever  to  stoop  to  anything 
ignoble.  But  if  to  go  through  eighty-five  years  con- 
tinually doing  the  kindest  thing  in  the  kindest  way  for 
the  largest  number  of  people,  be  democracy  then  he 
was  an  ideal  democrat.  His  ancestry,  birth,  childhood, 
education,  scientific  and  literary  work,  his  many  friends 
and  the  incidents  of  travel,  have  been  told.  But  with 
all  that  has  been  written,  and  much  that  has  been 
so  well  written  of  Dr.  Holmes,  the  real  man  has  never 


THE   GOLDEN   AGE   OF   GENIUS  237 

been  adequately  interpreted  to  the  general  public.  At 
the  most,  his  biographies  have  presented  external  ap- 
pearances and  surface  indications.  They  have  told  of 
his  outward  life  and  of  his  stories,  his  essays,  his  poems  ; 
that  he  was  a  poet,  a  wit,  a  celebrity. 

There  was  a  depth  to  the  nature  of  Dr.  Holmes  that 
has  perhaps  never  been  fully  sounded,  unless  by  some 
near  friend  who  has  not  chronicled  the  record  of  his 
plummet  line.  His  classmate  and  beloved  friend,  James 
Freeman  Clarke ;  Edwin  P.  Whipple,  his  most  appre- 
ciative critic ;  and  Dr.  Hale,  whose  interpretation  of  his 
life,  and  friends  contributes  one  of  the  most  brilliant 
chapters  in  literary  history,  —  were  those  who  have 
seemed  to  most  truly  interpret  Dr.  Holmes. 

Between  Lowell  and  Holmes  there  existed  a  very 
beautiful  and  sympathetic  friendship,  which  found  ex- 
pression in  Mr.  Lowell's  poem  written  to  him  on  his 
seventy-fifth  birthday,  that  opens  :  — 

"  Dear  Wendell,  why  need  connt  the  years 
Since  first  your  genius  made  me  thrill, 
If  what  moved  them  to  smiles  or  tears, 
Or  both  contending  move  me  still  ? 


"  Ten  years  my  senior  !     When  my  name 
In  Harvard's  entrance  book  was  writ, 
Her  halls  still  echoed  with  the  fame 
Of  you,  her  poet  and  her  wit. 

"  Outlive  us  all !     Who  else  like  you 

Could  sift  the  seed-corn  from  our  chaff, 
And  make  us,  with  the  pen  we  knew. 
Deathless,  at  least,  in  epitaph." 


238  BOSTON   DAYS 


Another  stanza  of  this  poem  was  fulfilled  when  all 
that  was  mortal  of  Holmes  was  laid  in  Mt.  Auburn. 

''  One  air  gave  both  their  lease  of  breath  ; 
The  same  paths  lured  our  boyish  feet. 
One  earth  will  hold  us  safe  in  death 
With  dust  of  saints  and  scholars  sweet." 

The  keynote  to  the  character  of  Dr.  Holmes,  as 
revealed  to  his  more  intimate  personal  circle  and  never 
fairly  translated  into  biographical  record,  is  found  in 
his  intense  interest  in  the  mysterious  problem  of  the 
relation  between  the  soul  and  the  body ;  of  the  tran- 
substantiation  of  physical  supplies  into  spiritual  force. 
He  was  an  evolutionist  in  a  far  wider  and  higher  sense 
than  that  of  Darwin,  for  his  view  of  evolution  con- 
templated the  progress  of  the  soul  after  leaving  this 
body.  That  inscrutable  link  that  holds  body  and  soul 
in  identity  during  life,  and  that  being  broken  produces 
the  change  we  call  death,  haunted  his  imagination. 
For  this  trend  of  his  interest  there  was  combined  the 
intuition  of  the  poet  and  the  penetration  of  the  scientist. 
He  has  been  reported  as  an  agnostic ;  but  this,  in  the 
usual  sense  of  the  term,  is  not  true.  He  was  a  com- 
municant of  King's  Chapel  (Unitarian),  where  he  held 
a  pew  and  was  a  constant  attendant  on  divine  service. 
With  that  twinkle  in  his  eye  that  those  who  knew  him 
in  familiar  intercourse  so  well  remember,  the  Autocrat 
used  to  remark  that  the  typical  life  of  the  Bostonian 
consisted  in  being  born  in  Boston,  graduating  at 
Harvard,  owning  a  pew  in  King's  Chapel  or  in  Trinity 


THE   GOLDEN    AGE   OF   GENIUS  239 

Church,  and  being  finally  buried  in  Mt.  Auburn.     His 
own  life  fulfilled  this  whimsical  data. 

Dr.  Holmes'  familiarity  with  the  works  of  the  great 
philosophers,  Leibnitz,  Spinoza,  Hegel,  Hume,  and 
others,  led  him  to  higher  results  in  physics  than  the 
scientist  usually  attains.  One  problem  that  deeply 
interested  him  he  expressed  in  these  words  :  — 

"  Are  there  any  mental  processes  of  which  we  are  un- 
conscious at  the  time,  but  which  we  recognize  as  having 
taken  place  by  finding  certain  results  in  our  minds  ?  " 

On  this  he  quotes  the  opinion  of  Leibnitz  and  Des- 
cartes, and  compares  them  with  illustrations  furnished 
by  Maudsley,  Abercrombie,  Lecky,  Sir  John  Herschel, 
Hamilton,  Mill,  and  others. 

This  problem  of  unconscious  cerebration  fascinated 
Dr.  Holmes,  and  he  constantly  subjected  it  to  many 
forms  of  test  and  inquiry.     In  this  paper  he  notes  : 

"  I  was  told  within  a  week  of  a  business  man  in  Boston 
who,  having  an  important  question  under  consideration, 
had  given  it  up  for  the  time  as  too  much  for  him.  But 
he  was  conscious  of  an  action  going  on  in  his  brain  which 
was  so  unusual  and  painful  as  to  excite  his  apprehensions 
that  he  was  threatened  with  palsy,  or  something  of  that 
sort.  After  some  hours  of  this  uneasiness  his  perplexity 
was  all  at  once  closed  up  by  the  natural  solution  of  his 
doubt  coming  to  him,  —  worked  out,  as  he  believed,  in  this 
obscure  and  troubled  interval." 

Dr.  Holmes  has  been  called  the  "  Poet  of  Occa- 
sions," but  to  what  height  he  raised  those  occasions! 


240  BOSTON   DAYS 


The  last  great  one  of  his  life  which  had  Holmes  for  its 
laureate  was  the  celebration  of  the  two  hundred  and 
fiftieth  anniversary  of  Harvard  (from  Nov.  5  to  8, 
inclusive,  1886),  where  among  the  speakers  were  Presi- 
dent Eliot,  James  Russell  Lowell,  Robert  C.  Winthrop, 
Judge  Hoar,  Professor  Mandell  Creighton  of  Cambridge, 
England,  George  William  Curtis,  Alexander  Agassiz, 
and  there  were  sermons  by  Rev.  Dr.  Peabody  and  Rev. 
Dr.  Phillips  Brooks  with  the  poem  by  Dr.  Holmes. 

Dr.  Holmes  had  made  only  two  visits  to  Europe,  as 
a  student  in  1833-35,  and  again  in  1886,  from  April  to 
August,  of  which  his  book,  the  famous  "Hundred 
Days,"  is  the  record.  He  had  never  visited  Chicago, 
nor  the  South,  save  as  he  went  to  Washington  and 
thereabouts  in  his  travels  after  his  "Captain."  On 
his  last  visit  to  Europe,  he  received  his  D.  C.  L.  from 
Oxford,  at  which  ceremonial  some  one  from  the  galleries 
cried  out :  "  Did  he  come  in  the  ^  One-Hoss  Shay '  ?  " 

The  life  of  Dr.  Holmes  in  his  own  city  was  one  of 
genial  good  will  and  sunny  gladness.  He  was  one  of 
the  gods,  the  immortals,  and  as  he  trod  the  streets  there 
were  none  too  poor  to  do  him  reverence. 

There  is  an  anecdote  of  Dr.  Holmes  full  of  humorous 
felicity.  It  seems  that  Rufus  Choate  was  at  one  time 
engaged  to  give  a  lecture  before  Dartmouth  College, 
and  being  ill.  Dr.  Holmes  was  asked  to  go  in  his 
place.  The  audience  was  greatly  disappointed  at  the 
non-appearance  of  Choate.  Dr.  Holmes  opened  his 
address  by  saying  that  if  the  cataract  of  Niagara  was  to 
have  been  displayed  there,  but  at  the  last  moment  the 


THE   GOLDEN   AGE   OF   GENIUS  241 

management  had  announced  that  the  difficulties  of 
transportation  were  such  that  they  had  decided,  instead, 
to  shoot  a  stream  of  water  from  a  village  fire  engine,  or, 
if  a  great  meteoric  display  was  expected,  and,  instead,  a 
tallow  candle  lighted,  he  could  enter  into  the  feelings 
of  those  who  came  to  witness  these  grand  displays  and 
found  nothing.  In  a  moment  he  had  so  charmed  and 
amused  his  auditors  that  he  held  them  captive  through 
his  entire  address. 

To  a  friend   who  sent  him  flowers  on   one  of  his 
birthdays  he  wrote :    "  If  the  gardens  were  as  full  of    ♦ 
roses  as  your  heart  is  of  kindness,  there  would  be  no 
room  for  the  sidewalks." 

One  day,  in  a  long  and  intimate  conversation,  he 
related  this  curious  experience.  At  dinner  one  night 
at  his  country  house  at  Beverly,  not  long  before,  he 
was  suddenly  moved,  apropos  of  nothing,  to  relate  a 
very  curious  criminal  case  that  he  had  not  even  thought 
of,  so  far  as  he  knew,  for  forty  years.  When  they  left 
the  dining-room  and  passed  into  the  library  it  was  found 
the  mail  had  been  delivered  while  they  were  at  dinner, 
and  lay  on  the  table.  Dr.  Holmes  opened  a  paper  sent 
him  by  a  friend  in  England,  and,  behold !  it  contained 
the  same  story  of  the  long-past  crime  that  he  had  just 
been  relating,  revived  in  the  newspaper  and  a  friend  in 
England  had  sent  it,  thinking  it  would  interest  him, 
from  its  curious  character.  ^^Now  what,"  said  Dr. 
Holmes,  "  put  the  story  at  that  moment  in  my  mind  ? 
I  suppose  the  spiritualists  would  say  that  a  spirit  read 
what  was  in  the  paper  lying  in  another  room  and  com- 

16 


242  BOSTON   DAYS 


municated  it  to  me.  Or  was  it,  possibly,  my  uncon- 
scious self  that  saw  it  and  communicated  it  to  the 
brain?" 

"  Which  do  you  think  it  was,  Dr.  Holmes  ?  "  asked 
his  guest,  curious  to  hear  his  keen  and  subtle  analysis 
of  so  strange  an  occurrence.  "  I  have  no  theories,"  he 
replied ;  "  I  only  state  facts." 

Dr.  Holmes  may  be  called  the  most  typical  Bostonian 
that  the  modern  Athens  has  ever  known.  Not  only  in 
that  his  entire  life  of  eighty-five  years  was  spent  in  his 
native  city,  with  the  exception  of  two  years  of  medical 
study  in  Paris,  in  his  youth,  and  his  famous  trip  of  a 
"  Hundred  Days  "  abroad,  in  his  later  years,  —  but  still 
more  in  that  his  temperament,  his  expression,  were  the 
very  essence  and  elixir  of  that  wit,  polish,  refinement ; 
of  the  keen,  swift  perception,  the  sympathetic  response, 
and  noble  fibre  that  is  peculiarly  characteristic  of 
Boston.  Of  course  there  are  Bostonians  and  Bostonians, 
but  one  is  now  speaking  of  the  "  Brahmin  "  type. 

The  temperament  of  Dr.  Holmes  was  pre-eminently 
sympathetic  in  strength,  not  in  weakness.  He  had  the 
sympathy  which  is  the  supreme  result  of  the  finest 
mental  qualities,  of  inherited  intellect,  of  experience,  of 
culture,  of  spiritual  insight.  And  so,  though  he  was 
not  a  statesman  or  a  politician,  or  a  reformer,  or  a 
diplomat ;  nor  a  preacher  or  lecturer,  he  was  the  most 
critically  sympathetic,  the  most  sympathetically  critical, 
with  the  men  who  stood  for  those  things  of  any  man 
that  can  be  named.  Never  were  two  men  more  unlike 
in  temperament  than  Holmes  and  Emerson ;  yet  it  may 


THE   GOLDEN   AGE   OF    GENIUS  243 

be  more  than  an  open  question  if  any  of  the  tran- 
scendentalists  could  have  begun  to  produce  that  vivid 
and  vrell-proportioned  picture  of  Emerson  that  Dr. 
Holmes  has  given  us  in  his  biography  of  him  in  the 
"  American  Men  of  Letters  "  series. 

Amid  the  group  of  authors  that  form  the  splendid 
literary  galaxy  of  New  England,  no  one  required  such 
plastic  surface  to  impressions,  on  the  part  of  a  bio- 
grapher, as  Dr.  Holmes.  His  character  was  more 
elaborate,  so  to  speak;  he  was  more  versatile,  more 
many-sided,  than  any  one  of  the  others.  If  not  a 
spiritual  seer,  he  knew  perfectly  what  it  was  to  be  a 
spiritual  seer,  and  he  fully  comprehended  and  sym- 
pathized with  Emerson.  He  was  in  the  same  perfect 
harmony  of  sympathy  with  that  pure  and  fervent  ethical 
thinker,  James  Freeman  Clarke.  He  beheld  the 
universe  and  recognized  its  laws  with  his  close  friend 
and  classmate.  Prof.  Benjamin  Peirce,  the  great 
astronomer.  Never  did  poetic  expression  more  fitly 
and  exquisitely  embody  a  life  than  in  the  stanzas  of 
Dr.  Holmes  on  the  death  of  Professor  Peirce.  Then, 
too,  it  must  not  be  forgotten  that  beside  being  the 
poet,  the  literary  man,  the  man  in  touch  with  ethical 
thought  and  spiritual  problems.  Dr.  Holmes  was  the 
medical  professor;  a  physician,  a  scientist,  a  savant; 
that  his  university  lectures  to  medical  students  were 
given  three  or  four  times  a  week  over  a  long  series  of 
years,  and  constituted,  of  themselves,  enough  to  have 
filled  the  entire  time  of  almost  any  man.  With  all 
these   various   channels   of  activity   Dr.   Holmes   was 


244  BOSTON   DAYS 


always  in  touch  with  social  life ;  always  a  man  of  the 
world,  a  man  of  affairs,  a  man  of  letters  and  of  science. 
His  metier  was  the  life  of  refinement,  ease,  beauty.  It 
was  a  requirement  to  him  to  have  certain  ceremonial 
elegances,  to  observe  due  forms  and  fitness.  This 
quality  in  his  temperament  came  evidently  from  his 
mother,  and  it  is  not  uninteresting  to  trace,  as  we  may, 
the  sources  of  his  brilliant  and  versatile  gifts. 

Oliver  Wendell  Holmes  was  the  son  of  Rev.  Abiel 
Holmes,  who  graduated  at  Yale  "with  honor  and  a 
respectable  part  at  commencement"  in  1783.  He 
married  Mary,  a  daughter  of  Rev.  Ezra  Stiles,  D.D., 
President  of  Yale  College.  The  Rev.  Abiel  Holmes  and 
his  wife  lived  in  Georgia  —  where  he  had  a  pastorate  — 
until  1791,  when  he  accepted  the  call  from  the  First 
Congregational  Church  in  Cambridge.  Mrs.  Holmes 
died,  and  in  March,  1801,  he  married  again,  his  second 
wife  being  Sarah  Wendell,  the  only  daughter  of  Honor- 
able Oliver  Wendell  of  Boston. 

"  Sarah  Wendell,"  wrote  Dr.  Holmes,  in  later  years 
of  his  mother,  "  was  a  lady  bred  in  an  entirely  different 
atmosphere  from  that  of  the  strait-laced  puritanism." 

The  second  Mrs.  Holmes  (the  mother  of  the  "  Auto- 
crat"), as  the  daughter  of  a  prosperous  merchant,  brought 
a  well-filled  purse  into  the  clerical  household.  Through 
her  came  the  strain  of  Dutch  ancestry,  which  always 
amused  Dr.  Holmes,  and  to  which  he  often  alluded. 
Through  her,  too,  came  that  dash  of  brilliant  vivacious- 
ness  that  so  pre-eminently  distinguished  the  Autocrat. 

Dr.  Holmes  was  born  on  Aug.  29,  1809,  in  the  "gam- 


THE   GOLDEN   AGE   OF   GENIUS  245 

brel-roofed  house  "  at  Cambridge,  Mass.,  and  died  in 
Boston  on  Oct.  7,  1894.  He  was  fitted  for  college  at 
Andover,  graduated  from  Harvard  in  1829,  and  later,  as 
already  noted,  he  went  abroad  for  two  years  in  Europe, 
from  which  he  returned  in  December,  1835,  and  in  the 
opening  of  1836  set  up  his  medical  practice  in  Boston. 

Many  letters  written  by  him  from  Paris  during  his 
study  abroad  are  inconsequential.  There  is  the  bright- 
ness and  genial  vivacity  that  always  characterized  him, 
there  are  some  felicitous  terms  of  expression,  but  the 
young  student  had  not  then  entered  very  deeply  into 
life. 

He  was  an  interested  and  energetic  student  of  medi- 
cine, and  a  keen  and  wide-awake  observer,  but  he  was 
not  at  that  time  a  thinker  or  a  student  of  thought. 
When  such  men  as  Horace  Mann,  Emerson,  Sumner, 
and  Wendell  Phillips  were  looking  introspectively  into 
life,  and  were  enthusiasts  for  the  progress  and  develop- 
ment of  humanity,  Holmes  was  taking  his  life  with  ease 
and  gayety,  and  saw  it  largely  as  a  humorous  spectacle. 
It  is  not,  however,  that  he  was  the  dilettante ;  humor 
was  in  his  temperament.  While  not  cast  in  heroic  mould, 
he  was  to  develop  with  a  symmetrical  harmony  and  sunni- 
ness  of  influence,  which,  in  its  own  way,  was  to  con- 
tribute largely  to  life.  He  had  no  affinities  with  gloom. 
Cheerfulness  is  a  very  sane  thing,  and  Dr.  Holmes  was 
eminently  sane. 

Dr.  Holmes  did  not  fall  into  the  ethical  or  the  refor-    \y' 
matory  current  with  deep  sympathy,  but  observed  these 
phases  of  Boston  life  more  as  a  spectator.     This  is  to 


246  BOSTON   DAYS 


say,  he  was  in  no  wise  a  moralist  or  a  reformer;  but 
still,  in  his  maturer  years,  as  an  analyst  of  moral  states 
and  the  causes  that  lay  behind  them,  —  as  a  student  of 
psychological  relations  and  the  assertions  of  heredity  and 
the  tyranny  of  temperament,  —  he  has  not  his  equal  in 
science  or  in  ethics. 

The  years  ran  on.  In  1840  Dr.  Holmes  married  Miss 
Amelia  Lee  Jackson,  a  daughter  of  Hon.  Charles  Jack- 
son, of  Boston.  They  set  up  their  manage  on  Mont- 
gomery Place  and  there  their  three  children  —  Oliver 
Wendell,  Jr.  (now  Chief  Justice  Holmes),  Amelia  Lee 
(later  Mrs.  Turner  Sargent),  and  Edward  Jackson  — 
were  born.  Mrs.  Sargent  was  her  father's  companion 
during  the  famous  "  hundred  days "  in  Europe.  Her 
death  in  1889  left  him  a  lonely  "last  leaf"  indeed. 
The  younger  son  died  in  1884,  and  Chief  Justice 
Holmes,  who  bears  his  father's  name,  alone  represents 
him.  From  Montgomery  Place  Dr.  Holmes  removed  his 
household  gods  to  Charles  Street,  where  he  lived  for 
many  years  until  the  march  of  business  drove  him  to 
seek  another  home,  which  he  found  on  Beacon  Street 
(No.  296)  on  the  water  side,  the  house  in  which  he 
lived  until  his  death,  and  which  his  son  has  since 
occupied.  "The  water  side  of  Beacon  Street"  has 
become  almost  a  classic  locality,  and  perhaps  the  placid 
Charles  will  yet  come  to  be  to  future  generations  a 
classic  Helicon.  The  view  from  the  windows  of  the 
library  of  Dr.  Holmes  might  well  be  embalmed  in 
classic  story.  As  if  in  compliment  to  the  Autocrat, 
the  river  there  broadened  almost  into  a  lake.     Across 


THE   GOLDEN   AGE   OF   GENIUS  247 

it  were  seen  the  spires  and  roofs  of  adjacent  towns, 
and  when  an  opaline  haze  or  a  kind  of  fairy  mist 
hung  over  the  still  water^  the  scene  became  Turneresque, 
and  every  chimney  and  spire  seemed  to  take  on  the  illu- 
sion of  turret  and  tower.  Among  all  the  homes  of 
authors,  where  was  there  so  stately  and  so  noble  a 
library  whose  windows  could  command  such  an  en- 
chanted scene?  Looking  towards  sunset  across  the 
river,  one  looked  towards  the  college  town.  Unsur- 
passed was  the  view  in  its  changeful  loveliness,  —  never 
twice  alike  and  always  offering  alluring  vistas  to  a  poet's 
imagination.  It  held  the  enchanted  dreams  of  Venice. 
There  might  well  come  visions 

"  Of  May-days  in  whose  morning  air 
The  dews  were  golden  wine." 

And  books  ?  Books  were  everywhere,  of  course.  They 
lined  the  walls  and  grouped  themselves  in  revolving 
cases  at  the  side  of  the  poet's  desk.  A  generous  desk 
it  was,  —  that  large  solid  table  in  the  centre  of  the  room 
and  by  it  the  poet's  chair.  In  a  room  below  hung  the 
picture  of  "  Dorothy  Q.'"  the  picture  on  which  one  gazes 
with  thankfulness  that  '^  those  close  shut  lips  "  had  not 
'^  answered  No  "  on  one  momentous  occasion.  A  beauti- 
ful copy  of  the  Sistine  Madonna  was  on  the  wall,  and  the 
books  all  had  a  companionable  air,  as  of  books  that  are 
lived  with,  and  confided  in,  and  trusted. 

When  "  The  Atlantic  Monthly  "  was  projected,  with 
James  Russell  Lowell  as  its  editor,  Mr.  Lowell  insisted 
that  Dr.  Holmes  should  become  a  contributor.     It  was 


248  BOSTON  DAYS 


by  this  means  that  he  discovered  himself.  He  was  now 
in  his  forty-seventh  year;  but  he  stood  on  the  threshold 
in  the  dawn  of  the  real  work  of  his  life.  "  The  Auto- 
crat at  the  Breakfast  Table  "  was  the  name  chosen  for 
the  series  of  papers  he  began  contributing.  Their  force 
and  brilliancy  and  racy  vitality  took  the  reading  public 
by  storm.  Unique,  epigrammatic,  spontaneous,  the 
work  captivated  and  has  ever  since  held  the  lovers  of 
literature.  Later  came  "The  Poet  at  the  Breakfast 
Table,"  that  marvellously  psychological  romance,  "  Elsie 
Venner,"  and  the  following  story,  hardly  less  intensely 
interesting  in  its  mental  analysis,  —  "The  Guardian 
Angel." 

Among  the  extracts  from  his  letters  in  those  days  is 
this,  written  to  Motley,  —  the  friend  to  whom,  of  all 
others,  he  was  most  deeply  attached.  Writing  from 
Nahant,  he  says :  — 

"  I  have  dined  since  I  have  been  here  at  Mr.  George 
Peabody's  with  Longfellow,  Sumner,  Apple  ton,  and  William 
Amory  ;  at  Cabot  Lodge's  with  nearly  the  same  company ; 
at  Mr.  James'  with  L.  and  S.,  and  at  Longfellow's  en 
famille,  pretty  nearly.  Very  pleasant  dinners.  I  wish 
you  could  have  been  at  all  of  them.  I  find  a  singular 
charm  in  the  society  of  Longfellow,  a  soft  voice,  a  sweet 
and  cheerful  temper,  a  receptive  rather  than  an  aggres- 
sive intelligence,  the  agreeable  flavor  of  scholarship  with- 
out any  pedantic  ways,  and  a  perceptible  soupgon  of 
humor,  not  enough  to  startle  or  surprise  or  keep  you  under 
the  strain  of  overstimulation,  which  I  am  apt  to  feel  with 
very  witty  people,  Sumner  seems  to  me  to  have  less 
imagination,  less  sense  of  humor  or  wit,  than  almost  any 
man  of  intellect  I  ever  knew." 


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THE   GOLDEN   AGE   OF   GENIUS  249 

The  one  immortal  work  of  Dr.  Holmes  in  literature  is 
"The  Chambered  Nautilus."  This  poem  appeared  in 
the  fourth  paper  of  the  series  of  the  "  Autocrat/'  and  it 
is  one  that  will  live  as  long  as  the  English  language 
endures.  His  own  analysis  of  this  poem  incidentally 
given  in  the  following  letter  acknowledging  Mr. 
Whipple's  felicitations  on  a  later  work  is  deeply 
interesting :  — 

296  Beacon  St.,  Nov.  16,  1880. 

Dear  Mr.  "Whipple,  —  You  cannot  tell  how  much  good 
your  hearty  note  has  done  me.  It  was  an  act  of  true 
kindness  to  write  it.  I  thought  I  might  get  a  pleasant 
word  from  somebody  or  other  (in  addition  to  what 
Howells  wrote  when  I  sent  him  the  poem),  and  now  I  have 
it  and  from  one  who  knows  what  poetry  is  and  would  not 
praise  carelessly. 

I  confess  I  thought  the  poem  in  its  own  way  one  of  the 
best  I  have  ever  written.  I  suppose  a  writer  may  greatly 
overrate  his  powers,  but  I  do  not  think  he  is  so  like  to  be 
mistaken  about  the  felicities  of  any  particular  effort, 
judged  by  the  scale  of  his  own  merit,  and  I  could  not 
help  feeling  that  I  had  expressed  what  I  wanted  to  as 
I  wanted  to,  and  was  content  to  send  it  about. 

I  was  reminded  by  your  note  very  forcibly  of  one  which 
the  late  Mrs.  Follen  wrote  me  soon  after  the  publication 
of  "  The  Chambered  Nautilus,"  which  I  have  always  con- 
sidered the  most  artistically  finished  of  any  of  my  poems. 
She  said  she  had  tried  to  alter  some  phrase  or  word  and 
found  she  could  not  im.prove  it.  I  was  glad  she  did  not 
suggest  any  change,  for  it  had  passed  a  pretty  sharp 
ordeal,  —  a  thoroughly  lyric  poem  has  always  walked 
over  the  red  hot  ploughshares  and  is  impatient  when  pins 
are  stuck  in  it. 


250  BOSTON   DAYS 


Perhaps  you  may  have  hesitated  whether  or  not  to 
write  to  me  about  the  poem.  I  do  not  know  —  I  only 
know  that  it  costs  an  effort  to  write  and  don't  doubt  the 
sight  of  a  pen  is  often  odious  to  you.  Well,  now  be  glad 
you  did  it,  for  it  made  me  a  great  deal  happier,  and  I 
feel  as  much  obliged  to  you  and  Mrs.  Whipple  for  liking 
my  poem  and  to  you  for  saying  so,  as  I  ever  did  to  any- 
body for  the  handsomest  Christmas  present  I  ever  got  in 
my  life. 

Believe  me, 

Yours, 

Oliver  Wendell  Holmes. 

From  this  period  (1857-94)  the  life  of  Dr.  Holmes 
flowed  as  in  a  crescendo  progress  of  growing  literary 
fame  and  a  social  prominence  which  is  best  described 
as  national  recognition  and  love.  Never  was  there  a 
sweeter  nature  than  his.  How  beautiful  is  this  let- 
ter written  to  his  friend  and  classmate,  James  Free- 
man Clarke, — a  letter  which  is  as  a  key  to  the  minor 
life  of  Dr.  Holmes.  Under  date  of  June,  1864,  he 
writes :  — 

"  I  have  been  feeling  your  texts  (which,  as  you  know, 
are  the  pulses  of  sermons),  and  from  these  I  have  stolen 
my  way  along  until  I  got  my  hand  on  the  hearts  of  a  good 
number  of  them. 

"  Now,  the  beauty  of  your  sermons  is  that  they  have 
eggs  in  them,  fragrant  juices  in  them,  strengthening 
cordials  in  them,  sound  brains  in  them,  and  therefore  you 
and  I  are  logically  bound  to  approve,  to  admire,  and  to 
applaud  them.  I  have  always  done  my  part  in  the  way 
of  approbation,  admiration,  and  applause  ;  but  as  authors 
are  apt  sometimes  to  undervalue  themselves,  I  want  you 


THE   GOLDEN   AGE   OF   GENIUS  251 

to  take  my  word  for  it  that  your  discourses,  read  or  heard, 
are  the  aurum  potabile  of  spiritual  medicine.  Less  fanci- 
fully, they  are  first  perfectly  human  (which  theology  has 
not  commonly  been  at  all,  still  less  divine) ;  full  of  faith, 
full  of  courage,  full  of  kindness  and  large  charity; 
tender,  yet  searching  the  realities  of  things  with  true 
manly  thought ;  poetical,  yet  with  a  great  deal  of  plain 
common  sense,  —  sermons  that  will  always  be  good  read- 
ing, because  they  reach  down  even  below  Christianity  to 
that  plutonic  core  of  nature  over  which  all  revelations 
must  stratify  their  doctrines. 

"Thank  you  for  being  good,  for  being  brave,  true, 
tender,  brotherly  to  all  mankind,  sinners  included,  for 
thinking  such  good  thoughts,  for  preaching  them,  for 
printing  them,  and  once  more  for  sending  them  to  your 
loving  friend  and  classmate." 

Calling  on  Mrs,  Agassiz  after  the  death  of  her 
husband,  Dr.  Holmes  thus  writes  to  Motley  :  — 

"Yesterday  I  went  to  Cambridge  and  called  on  Mrs: 
Agassiz,  —  the  first  time  I  have  seen  her  since  her  hus- 
band's death.  She  was  at  work  on  his  correspondence, 
and  talked  in  a  very  quiet,  interesting  way  about  her 
married  life.  What  a  singular  piece  of  good  fortune  it 
was  that  Agassiz,  coming  to  a  strange  land,  should  have 
happened  to  find  a  woman  so  wonderfully  fitted  to  be  his 
wife  that  it  seems  as  if  he  could  not  have  bettered  his 
choice  if  all  womankind  had  passed  before  him,  as  the 
creatures  filed  in  procession  by  the  father  of  the  race." 

It  is  a  question  if  any  man  in  public  life  exerted  a 
wider  influence  or  left  on  his  age  a  finer  and  deeper 
impress  than  has  Dr.  Holmes, 


252  BOSTON   DAYS 


At  one  time  Lowell  wrote  to  him  one  of  those  curious 
letters  of  reproach,  veined  with  bitterness,  by  which  the 
poet  and  diplomat  occasionally  surprised  and  disap- 
pointed his  nearest  friends.  In  his  reply  Dr.  Holmes 
says  :  — 

"  I  supposed  that  you,  and  such  as  you,  would  feel  that 
I  had  taught  a  lesson  of  love,  and  would  thank  me  for  it. 
I  supposed  that  you  would  say  I  had  tried  in  my  humble 
way  to  adorn  some  of  the  scenes  of  this  common  life  that 
surrounds  us,  with  colors  borrowed  from  the  imagination 
and  the  feelings,  and  thank  me  for  my  effort.  I  supposed 
you  would  recognize  a  glow  of  kindly  feeling  in  every 
word  of  my  poor  lessons  —  even  in  its  slight  touches  of 
satire,  which  were  only  aimed  at  the  excesses  of  well- 
meaning  people.  I  supposed  you  would  thank  me  for 
laughing  at  the  ridiculous  phantom  of  the  one  poet  that 
is  to  be,  whose  imaginary  performances  inferior  persons 
are  in  the  habit  of  appealing  to,  to  prove  that  you  and 
such  as  you  are  mere  scribblers.  I  am  sorry  that  I  have 
failed  in  giving  you  pleasure  because  I  have  omitted  two 
subjects  on  which  you  would  have  loved  to  hear  my 
testimony. 

"  Above  all,  I  shall  always  be  pleased  rather  to  show 
what  is  beautiful  in  the  life  around  me  than  to  be  pitchiug 
into  giant  vices,  against  which  the  acrid  pulpit  and  the 
corrosive  newspaper  will  always  anticipate  the  gentle 
poet.  Each  of  us  has  his  theory  of  life,  of  art,  of  his 
own  existence  and  relations.  It  is  too  much  to  ask  of 
you  to  enter  fully  into  mine,  but  be  very  well  assured 
that  it  exists,  —  that  it  has  its  axioms,  its  intuitions,  its 
connected  beliefs,  as  well  as  your  own.  Let  me  try  to 
improve  and  please  my  fellow-men  after  my  own  fashion 
at  present;  when   I  come  to  your  way  of  thinking  (this 


THE   GOLDEN   AGE   OF   GENIUS  253 

may  happen),  I  liope  I  shall  be  found  worthy  of  a  less 
qualified  approbation  than  you  have  felt  constrained  to 
give  me  at  this  time." 

After  this  it  seems  to  me  no  words  could  be  added 
of  the  gentle  dignity,  the  noble  outlook  —  no  less  noble 
because  so  sympathetic  and  sunny  —  of  Dr.  Holmes. 
In  his  own  city  most  truly  could  it  be  said  of  him : 

"  None  knew  him  but  to  love  him  ; 
None  named  him  but  to  praise." 

Dr.  Holmes  found  his  "summers  of  Hesperides  "  on  » 
the  North  Shore,  that  haunt  of  the  painter  and  the  poet ; 
the  region  that  still  echoes  with  his  own  songs  and 
those  of  Whittier  and  Longfellow,  Celia  Thaxter,  and 
Lucy  Larcom.  The  "Autocrat,"  however,  was  less 
touched  by  nature  than  by  life,  and  scenery  to  him  was 
largely  but  a  setting  for  circumstance.  He  was  in- 
tensely in  love  with  the  spiritual  drama  of  life,  and  in 
the  "  Com^die  Humaine "  he  discerned  significances 
unremarked  by  insight  less  keen  and  by  sympathy  less 
delicate  and  responsive.  Never  was  a  man  more  be- 
loved and  yet  less  truly  understood  save  by  his  most 
intimate  circle  than  Dr.  Holmes.  His  nature  was 
like  quicksilver,  —  forever  dancing,  sparkling,  shifting, 
and  yet  with  depths  so  profound  as  to  be  forever 
unsounded.  His  gayety  and  sparkle  were  the  outer 
garb  of  the  deepest  thought  constantly  engaged  with 
the  problems  of  destiny.  He  was  always  ready  for 
the  mere  touch  and  go  of  life,  but  that  was  his  armor, 
so  to  speak,  and  beneath  it  was  another  world,  another 


254  BOSTON   DAYS 


life,  a  divinely  touched  nature  in  whose  depths  phil- 
osophy and  science  and  the  most  far-reaching  grasp  of 
the  ethical  laws  had  their  abiding-place. 

Dr.  Holmes  lived  so  absolutely  in  an  intellectual 
world,  a  spiritual  world,  in  that  larger  sense  of  thought 
and  divination,  as  well  as  religious  feeling,  that  he  little 
needed  and  little  heeded  the  change  of  outer  scenes 
afforded  by  travel.  To  leave  ^'  the  water  side  of  Beacon 
Street "  in  the  early  summer  for  his  country  house  at 
Beverly  farm,  on  the  North  Shore,  and  to  leave  Beverly 
in  the  autumn  for  "  the  water  side  of  Beacon  Street," 
quite  satisfied  him  for  change  and  variety. 

There  are  exceptions  to  the  tradition  that  whom  the 
gods  love  die  young.  The  fame  of  Dr.  Holmes  is  the 
more  permanent  and  abiding  in  that  he  lived  to  so 
great  an  age,  and  some  of  his  best  work  was  done  after 
his  seventy- fifth  year.  Without  ever  having  been  iden- 
tified with  any  special  phase  of  reform  or  philanthropy, 
his  nobility  of  nature  was  impressive.  Life  itself 
is  the  most  important  of  problems  to  solve,  the  finest 
of  all  the  fine  arts  to  achieve,  and  the  symmetry  of 
character  that  enables  a  man  to  meet  well  the  claims 
of  private  life  is  often  greater  than  that  of  him  who 
wins  fame  in  public  achievement. 

Dr.  Holmes  was  never  known  as  an  abolitionist,  or  a 
suffragist,  or  a  prohibitionist,  or  as  this  or  that  outside 
of  the  natural  life  and  work  of  a  man  keenly  alive  to 
a  great  range  of  interests  ;  but  there  is  not  a  question 
that  affects  social  progress  that  he  did  not  regard  with 
interest  and  discuss  with  the  most  brilliant  and  discrim- 


THE   GOLDEN   AGE   OF   GENIUS  255 

mating  keenness.  There  are  persons  whose  entire  force 
seems  to  express  itself  on  a  few  specific  things,  or  even 
on  one,  and  they  usually  disappoint  those  who  have 
known  them  through  this  one  achievement  when  they 
come  to  be  seen  in  the  wholeness  of  life.  Again,  there 
are  those  whose  power  expresses  itself  in  many  ways, 
no  one  of  which  is  perhaps  dazzling,  but  on  meeting 
them  the  stranger  will  feel  how  much  greater  is  the 
character  than  any  one  or  any  number  of  its  specific 
achievements  would  indicate.  Dr.  Holmes  was  one  of 
these,  save  that  any  one  of  his  various  phases  as  poet, 
essayist,  or  romancer  is  brilliant  enough  to  have  quite 
excused  his  being  no  more  than  the  author  in  that  spe- 
cific literary  line  alone. 

Comparing  Dr.  Holmes  and  Mr.  Lowell,  there  is  a 
point  which  may  not  be  without  interest.  Mr.  Lowell 
united  in  himself  two  distinctive  personalities,  —  the 
man  of  letters  and  the  man  of  the  world,  while  in  Dr. 
Holmes  the  man  and  the  author  are  one.  In  much  of 
his  literary  work  Mr.  Lowell  reveals  himself  as  the  saint 
and  the  hero ;  but  in  personal  companionship  he  was  the 
cultivated  and  agreeable  gentleman,  courteous,  scholarly, 
and  fine,  yet  always  a  man  of  the  world.  But  the 
personality  of  Dr.  Holmes  is  fairly  identical  with  his 
expressions  of  it  as  the  author.  His  conversation, 
while  in  no  sense  bookish,  was  strangely  like  his  books. 
It  had  the  same  indescribably  brilliant  quality.  All 
aglow  with  the  color  of  the  moment,  it  had  still  that 
rhythmic  and  chiselled  beauty  that  conveys  a  sense  of 
form  as  well  as  of  significance. 


256  BOSTON   DAYS 


It  was  not  only  thought,  profound,  fine,  far-reaching 
as  may  be,  but  thought  so  finely  related  and  subtly 
suggestive  of  the  vast  range  of  vital  experiences,  ex- 
pressed in  diction  so  choice  as  to  lie  within  the  region  of 
art.  Much  of  his  conversation  might  be  heard  as  if  he 
were  fairly  reading  from  his  own  books,  if  one  only 
listened  with  closed  eyes.  It  is  probably  safe  to  believe 
that  America  has  never  produced  a  conversationalist  so 
brilliant  as  Dr.  Holmes.  With  Mr.  Lowell  conversation 
was  one  thing  and  writing  another,  although  it  goes 
without  saying  that  his  conversation  was  exceptionally 
interesting  and  fine.  To  the  heart  of  the  poet,  the 
temperament  and  tastes  of  the  scholar,  the  polished 
grace  of  the  gentleman,  he  united  ethical  ideals  in  a 
way  that  became  part  of  his  individuality,  and  prede- 
termined the  cast  and  conduct  of  his  life.  As  a  critic 
and  scholar  he  holds  rank  commensurate  with  his  fame 
as  a  poet.  It  would  be  hard  to  find  a  more  perfect 
piece  of  literary  criticism  than  his  paper  on  Dante,  and 
in  his  hands,  indeed,  the  literary  essay  becomes  a  very 
vital  and  suggestive  thing,  although  it  may  be  held  that 
Lowell  had  not  the  brilliancy  of  Macaulay,  the  depth 
of  Carlyle,  the  electric  wit  of  Whipple,  the  logical 
power  of  John  Morley,  the  subtle  insight  of  Ste.  Beuve, 
or  the  artistic  grace  of  Matthew  Arnold.  Nor  had  he 
the  spiritual  divination  of  Emerson,  the  imaginative  art 
of  Hawthorne,  or  the  tenderly  sympathetic  genius  of 
Longfellow.  Still  we  have  hardly  any  other  American 
in  whom  so  great  a  degree  of  talent  has  manifested 
itself  in  so  many  directions  as  in  Mr.  Lowell, — as  poet, 


THE   GOLDEN   AGE   OF   GENIUS  257 

scholar,  statesman,  lecturer,  and  diplomat.  In  him  the 
American  of  the  nineteenth  century  was  typically 
represented.  His  character  revealed  a  kind  of  inflores- 
cence of  the  Puritan  virtues,  —  their  ruggedness,  cul- 
tivated and  polished,  appearing  as  strength;  their 
uncompromising  truth  taking  on  in  him  the  guise  of 
noble  sincerity  and  fearless  devotion ;  their  aspiration 
appearing  in  him  as  spiritual  truth. 

A  panorama  of  enchanting  scenes  arises  when  the 
magician's  power  lifts  for  a  moment  the  veil  that  hides 
the  golden  age  of  Boston,  —  the  age  of  Emerson,  Haw- 
thorne, Longfellow,  Holmes,  Whittier,  Freeman  Clarke, 
Whipple,  Fields,  and  Lowell.  They  are  the  immortals 
whose  lives  are  the  most  precious  heritage  of  their 
State.  Mr.  Lowell  will  be  remembered  as  the  poet 
and  man  of  letters  who  became  a  citizen  of  the  world. 
Wherever  literature  is  loved,  wherever  patriotism  is 
held  as  a  pious  virtue,  wherever  human  progress  is  seen 
as  an  individual  and  national  ideal,  the  name  of  James 
Russell  Lowell  will  be  enshrined. 

Far  other  words  are  needed  to  characterize  Dr. 
Holmes  in  his  electric  personality,  recognizing  with  the 
lightning  swiftness  of  intuition  the  keynote  to  any  scale 
of  elective  affinities.  He  was  not  so  much  magnetic  as 
magnetism  impersonated.  He  was  so  much  more  alive 
than  other  people.  There  was  little  of  him  to  die. 
For  the  most  part  he  was  an  immortal  spirit  now  and 
here. 

One  very  marked  attribute  of  Dr.  Holmes  in  his  later 
years  was  his  searching  and  intelligent  interest  in  the 

17 


258  BOSTON    DAYS 


occult  and  psychical  phenomena.  Of  course  his  readers 
know  that  he  struck  the  keynote  of  this  quest  in  early 
life  in  his  romance  of  "  Elsie  Yenner/'  and  in  the  very 
remarkable  psychological  analysis  presented  in  "The 
Guardian  Angel."  No  one  can  read  that  novel  without 
gaining  at  once  an  altogether  clearer  comprehension  of 
human  life.  Dr.  Holmes  often  talked  of  "  brain  waves," 
as  he  called  thought  transference.  At  a  club  dinner  in 
London  he  said  to  the  Bishop  of  Gloucester  and  to  Mr. 
Haweis:  '^I  think  we  are  all  unconsciously  conscious 
of  each  other's  brain  waves  at  times ;  the  fact  is,  words, 
and  even  signs,  are  a  very  poor  sort  of  language  com- 
pared with  the  direct  telegraphy  between  souls.  The 
mistake  we  make  is  to  suppose  that  the  soul  is  circum- 
scribed and  imprisoned  by  the  body.  Now  the  truth 
is,  I  believe  I  extend  a  good  way  outside  my  body; 
well,  I  should  say  at  least  three  or  four  feet  all  round, 
and  so  do  you,  and  it  is  our  extensions  that  meet. 
Before  words  pass,  or  we  shake  hands,  our  souls  have 
exchanged  impressions,  and  they  never  lie." 

Dr.  Holmes  was  once  asked  what  suggested  to  him 
the  remarkable  psychological  problem  wrought  out  in  his 
metaphysical  romance  of  "  Elsie  Venner."  He  replied 
that  there  was  no  external  suggestion  at  all, — that  the 
romance  was  merely  the  result  of  his  own  contemplation 
of  the  doctrine  of  original  sin.  That  in  this  story  he 
showed  how  a  life,  before  becoming  an  organized  being, 
could  be  poisoned  at  its  source.  He  instanced  the 
responsibility  of  the  person  who,  for  example,  had  given 
intoxicating   drink   to   a   boy,    who,    unknowing,    had 


THE   GOLDEN   AGE   OF   GENIUS  259 

taken  it  and  proceeded  to  work  mischief  and  destruc- 
tion. The  person  giving  the  debasing  drink,  not  the 
boy  who  drank  it,  would  be  responsible  for  the  evil 
wrought. 

It  is  the  most  hopeless  of  tasks  —  notwithstanding 
the  most  fascinating  as  well — to  attempt  any  tran- 
scription of  a  conversation  with  Dr.  Holmes.  The 
readers  of  his  inimitable  prose,  whether  in  romance  or 
essay,  realize  the  ramifications  of  thought,  or  specula- 
tion, or  incident  which  almost  any  topic  or  event 
suggests  to  him.  This  quality  was  pre-eminently  felt 
in  his  conversation ;  and  as  conversation  may  be  more 
flexible  than  writing,  his  kaleidoscopic  flashes  of  insight 
and  thought  illumined  and  enlarged  every  conceivable 
subject.  Dr.  Holmes  has  somewhere  asserted  that  he 
"  talked  to  find  out  what  he  thought,"  and  this  experi- 
mental examination  of  every  subject,  with  whatever 
light  fact,  or  incident,  or  science,  or  philosophy  may 
throw  on  it,  invested  his  conversation  with  enthralling 
charm.  His  genius  was  so  versatile  as  to  make  his 
personality  seem  inclusive  of  a  dozen  men  in  one,  and 
each  most  deeply  and  absorbingly  interesting.  At 
eighty-two  the  poet  was  all  aglow  with  interest  in  the 
movements  of  the  day.  He  was  as  alive  as  he  was  in 
early  life  as  to 

"  What  wonders  time  has  yet  to  show, 

What  unborn  years  shall  bring ; 
What  ship  the  Arctic  pole  shall  reach, 
What  lessons  science  waits  to  teach, 
What  sermons  there  are  left  to  preach, 

What  poems  yet  to  sing." 


260  BOSTON   DAYS 


To  Dr.  Holmes,  as  to  all  the  others  of  the  brilliant 
galaxy,  Mr.  Whipple  was  the  friend  whose  sympathetic 
insight  into  his  springs  of  thought  was  singularly 
potent  in  revealing  each  to  himself. 

Among  the  voluminous  mass  of  Mr.  Whipple's 
correspondence  that  Mrs.  Whipple,  guarding  from 
publication  heretofore,  has  kindly  permitted  to  be 
drawn  upon  for  these  pages,  is  the  following  letter : 

AsHFiELD,  Mass.,  Sept.  19,  1869. 
My  dear  Whipple,  —  Your  generous  note  makes  my 
cheeks  red  and  my  heart  warm.  It  covers  me  with  con- 
fusion, too,  that  a  letter  to  you  that  had  been  in  my  head 
and  heart  after  reading  your  Bacon  articles  was  never  writ- 
ten because  of  many  things.  Happily  your  Elizabethan 
book  has  just  come  to  me,  and  I  shall  have  my  swift  and 
capital  revenge  of  pleasure. 

As  for  the  especial  matter  of  your  note,  I  am  sure  I  am 
much  better,  but  want  some  rest  and  am  staving  off  press- 
ing invitations  with  both  hands. 

Gratefully  yours, 

Oliver  Wendell  Holmes. 

The  beautiful  companionship  between  Dr.  Holmes, 
Lowell,  and  Longfellow  in  all  those  years  finds  expres- 
sion and  description  in  numerous  poems  of  each  of  the 
friends.  The  life  in  Elmwood  was  another  of  those 
high  poetic  lives  conjoined  in  close  sympathy  with  that 
led  in  Craigie  House. 

"  No  qualities  are  really  valuable  save  those  which 
are  transferable  to  another  life,"  says  some  one,  and  the 
observation  suggests  itself  in  connection   with  James 


THE   GOLDEN   AGE   OF   GENIUS  26l 

Russell  Lowell,  for  few  characters  have  been  more 
wholly  made  up  of  these  transferable  qualities  than  his. 

His  father,  Rev.  Dr.  Charles  Lowell,  is  held  in 
reverent  memory  for  his  great  goodness,  and  only 
within  a  few  years  the  venerable  Dr.  Peabody  related 
in  some  reminiscences  how  Dr.  Lowell  might  often 
have  been  seen  at  night  going  with  a  lantern  in  his  hand 
into  the  crowded  and  muddy  lanes  and  alleys  of  the 
poorer  parts  of  his  parish,  seeking  out  those  in  need. 
He  was  the  pastor  of  the  old  West  Church,  and  the 
venerable  Dr.  Bartol  was  his  junior  colleague.  James 
Russell  Lowell  believed  that  he  inherited  his  poetic 
taste  from  his  mother,  who  was  from  the  Orkney  Isles, 
with  all  their  wild  and  picturesque  life.  Elm  wood, 
the  house  where  he  was  born  and  reared,  has  been 
too  often  described  to  need  further  picturing.  Until 
he  went  abroad  as  Minister  to  the  Court  of  St.  James 
it  was  his  home,  and  during  the  years  of  his  absence 
was  occupied  by  Mrs.  Ole  Bull.  Again  he  returned  to 
it,  and  there  he  died. 

At  first  Lowell  was  destined  for  a  lawyer.  He  must 
have  suddenly  changed  his  mind,  for  on  Oct.  18,  1838 
(when  he  was  nineteen  years  of  age),  he  wrote :  ^'  I  am 
reading  Blackstone  with  what  grace  I  may,"  and  in  the 
same  month  and  year  he  writes :  — 

*  ^  I  have  renounced  the  law.  I  am  going  to  settle  down 
into  a  business  man  at  last,  after  all  I  have  said  to  the 
contrary.  ...  I  am  now  looking  for  a  place  in  a  store. 
You  may  imagine  that  all  this  has  not  come  to  pass  with- 
out a  great  struggle.     I  must  expect  to  give  up  almost 


262  BOSTON   DAYS 


entirely   all   literary   pursuits,    and    instead   of    making 
rhymes  devote  myself  to  making  money."  .   .   . 

A  few  days  later,  however,  he  records  that  on  going 
into  town  to  "  look  for  a  place  "  he  stepped  into  court, 
where  Webster  was  one  of  the  counsel  retained  in  a 
case,  and  he  says :  — 

"  I  had  not  been  there  an  hour  before  I  decided  to  con- 
tinue in  my  profession  and  study  as  well  as  I  could." 

In  this  swift  reversal  of  intention  the  imaginative 
temperament  is  plainly  seen.  For  it  is  very  difficult 
for  one  whose  imagination  vividly  pictures  this  thing  or 
that  to  decide,  and  abide  by  any  decision ;  things  that 
the  matter-of-fact  temperament  would  never  debate  with 
itself,  the  artistic  temperament  sees  in  a  panorama  as 
successive  pictures,  and  now  one,  and  now  another, 
captivates  the  judgment.  Mr.  Lowell  was  a  man  of 
exquisite  tastes  and  culture,  of  a  high  order  of  talent 
and  of  true  nobility,  but  he  was  never  quite  the  hero. 
He  never  fully  escaped  from  a  certain  bondage  of 
conservatism.  He  sympathized  with  spiritual  things 
through  and  by  virtue  of  his  poetic  temperament,  while 
with  Emerson  the  reverse  was  true,  and  he  sympathized 
with  the  poetic  through  the  spiritual. 

The  purely  literary  temperament  is  by  no  means  neces- 
sarily the  highest  type  in  love  and  in  spiritual  receptivity. 
It  may  be,  but  it  depends.  Lowell,  —  at  first  hostile 
to  the  antislavery  cause,  —  yet  wrote  its  initial  song  — 
one  that  will  stir  and  thrill  through  the  ages — in  "The 
Present  Crisis." 


THE   GOLDEN   AGE   OF   GENIUS  263 

Of  his  sojourn  in  Concord  when  suspended  from  Har- 
vard for  failure  in  a  class  of  studies  he  disliked  and  for 
which  he  would  substitute  his  own  line,  Professor  Nor- 
ton says: — 

"  He  was  not  yet  prepared  to  know  Emerson,  who  might 
have  helped  him ;  but  he  had  been  bred  in  an  atmosphere 
of  conservatism  in  matters  of  the  intellect  and  the  spirit, 
and  he  shared  in  the  then  common  aversion  to  Emerson's 
teaching." 

On  meeting  Thoreau  Lowell  wrote  :  — 

"  It  is  exquisitely  amusing  to  see  how  Thoreau  imitates 
Emerson's  tone  and  manner.  With  my  eyes  shut  I 
shouldn't  know  them  apart." 

Lowell  had  little  sympathy  for  transcendentalism  as 
it  was  in  Emerson  and  Alcott  and  Margaret  Fuller,  and 
still  his  poems  are  filled  with  intimations  of  the  spiritual 
life.     As  in  this  :  — 

"We  see  but  half  the  causes  of  our  deeds, 
Seeking  them  wholly  in  the  outer  life. 
And  heedless  of  the  encircling  spirit  world, 
Which,  though  unseen  is  felt,  and  sows  in  us 
All  germs  of  pure  and  world-wide  purposes." 

The  two  interests  that  dominated  his  life  reveal  them- 
selves in  his  letters  at  nineteen  and  twenty,  —  the  lean- 
ing toward  poetry  and  politics. 

After  deciding  within  twelve  days  that  he  would 
abandon  law  and  again  that  he  would  pursue  it,  we 
find  the  next  month  that  he  writes :  "  I  have  quitted 
the  law  forever.'*     A  few  months  later  he  records  that 


264  BOSTON   DAYS 


the  thought  of  business  made  him  unhappy,  and  he 
again  turns  to  the  law. 

He  lectured  at  Concord,  for  which  they  gave  him  four 
dollars.  '*  I  wish  they  'd  ask  me  at  Cambridge,  where 
they  pay  fifteen,  or  at  Lowell,  where  they  pay  twenty- 
five,"  he  writes.  A  literary  plan  that  occurred  to  him  in 
September  of  '39  was  to  write  a  series  of  communica- 
tions for  some  magazine  in  the  form  of  Echermann  and 
Boswell,  —  "  imaginary  conversations  with  an  imaginary 
great  man,  in  which  I  can  put  down  everything  of  worth 
that  occurs  to  me  during  the  day."  In  the  next  De- 
cember he  met  Maria  White,  the  beautiful  and  gifted  girl 
who  became  his  wife.     Of  her  Professor  Norton  writes : 

^'  Miss  White  was  a  woman  of  unusual  loveliness  and 
of  gifts  of  mind  and  heart  more  unusual,  which  enabled 
her  to  enter  with  complete  sympathy  into  her  lover's 
intellectual  life  and  to  direct  his  genius  to  its  higher 
aims."  They  were  married  in  December  of  1866,  and 
in  the  few  years  immediately  following  he  achieved  a 
prominent  recognition  of  his  powers  as  a  poet.  In  a 
letter  he  says :  — 

"  I  know  that  God  has  given  me  powers  such  as  are 
not  given  to  all,  and  I  will  not  hide  my  talent  in  mean 
clay.  I  do  not  care  what  others  will  think  of  me  or  of 
my  book,  because  if  I  am  worth  anything  I  shall  one  day 
show  it.  I  do  not  fear  criticism  so  much  as  I  love  truth. 
.  .  .  Maria  fills  my  ideal  and  I  satisfy  hers,  and  I  mean 
to  live  as  one  beloved  by  such  a  woman  should  live." 

Mr.  Lowell  had  the  temperament  subject  to  inspira- 
tion.    He  was  at  times  peculiarly  receptive  to  subtle 


THE   GOLDEN   AGE   OF   GENIUS  265 

and  unseen  influences.  He  was  often,  he  said^  "  dimly 
aware  "  of  the  presence  of  spirits. 

Professor  Norton's  editing  of  the  "Letters"  is  a  work 
inviting  the  highest  recognition.  It  is  done  with  such 
wise  selection  and  such  delicacy  that  it  is  grateful  to 
read  them,  and  they  offer,  in  themselves,  almost  as  com- 
plete a  biography  of  Lowell  in  the  sense  of  interpreting 
his  inner  self,  as  is  given  by  Mr.  Scudder  in  the  author- 
ized work  which  elaborates  the  story  adding  external 
scene  and  setting  to  the  revelation  of  the  poet's  inner 
life  as  seen  in  the  "  Letters "  collected  and  edited  by 
Charles  Eliot  Norton. 

In  Dr.  Edward  Everett  Hale's  fascinating  book, 
called  "  Lowell  and  His  Friends,"  the  reader  finds  a  per- 
fect panorama  of  old  Boston.  The  early  Harvard  days 
when  Josiah  Quincy  was  the  President,  and  on  through 
the  administrations  of  Sharpe  and  Felton,  when  Peirce, 
Channing,  and  Longfellow  were  in  the  college,  hold 
charming  memories. 

"There  was  not  an  ism  but  had  its  shrine,"  says  Dr. 
Hale  of  the  Boston  of  the  forties,  "  nor  a  cause  but  had 
its  prophet.  .  .  .  Lowell  could  discuss  with  a  partner 
in  a  dance  the  moral  significance  of  the  '  Fifth  Sym- 
phony '  of  Beethoven  in  comparison  with  the  lessons 
of  the  *  Second  '  or  the  '  Seventh.'  Another  partner  in 
the  next  quadrille  would  reconcile  for  him  the  conflict 
of  free  will  and  foreknowledge.  In  Miss  Peabody's 
foreign  bookstore  he  could  talk  art  for  a  week,  procure 
Strauss' '  Leben  Jesu/  or  any  evening  hear  Hawthorne  tell 
the  story  of  Parson  Moody's  veil,  or  discuss  the  origin 


266  BOSTON   DAYS 


of  the  myth  of  Ceres  with  Margaret  Fuller.  .  .  .  Mr. 
Emerson  lectured  for  him  ;  Allston's  pictures  were  hung 
in  galleries  for  him ;  Fanny  Elssler  danced  for  him^  and 
Brahman  sang  for  him." 

Lowell's  early  coterie  of  friends  included  Dr.  Palfrey 
(who  was  the  editor  of  the  "  North  American  Review  " 
at  that  time),  Sumner  Hillard  (who  was  Sumner's  law 
partner),  Felton  (then  Greek  professor  at  Harvard  and 
later  the  President  of  the  University),  Fields,  Whipple^ 
and  Emerson.  In  1845  Thomas  Starr  King  came  to 
Boston,  and  he  was  at  once  welcomed  into  this  brilliant 
circle. 

The  eminently  conservative  character  of  Lowell's 
mind  is  indicated  by  a  remark  he  made  in  a  letter  to 
Mrs.  Howe  more  than  thirty  years  ago.  It  was  during 
his  editorship  of  the  "  Atlantic,"  and  she  had  sent  him  a 
poem  which  he  declined  with  the  assertion  that  no 
woman  could  write  a  poem,  and  that  Mrs.  Browning's 
efforts  were  a  conspicuous  illustration  of  her  failure  to 
be  a  poet.  Mr.  Lowell  added  in  this  note  to  Mrs. 
Howe  that  he  would  gladly  accept  a  prose  article  from 
her.  There  is  no  question  but  that  Mr.  Lowell  was 
always  under  the  old  order  of  things,  believing  that 
the  woman  was  subservient  to  the  man.  His  first 
wife,  Maria  White,  was  an  exceedingly  lovely  woman 
of  the  old  regime,  full  of  love  and  loyalty  to  her  hus- 
band, and  regarding  him  as  the  superior  being.  She 
was  content  to  merge  her  individuality  in  his,  it  may 
be ;  yet  the  result  was  harmony  and  happiness,  and 
nothing,  certainly,  can  be  better  than  that.     Nothing, 


THE   GOLDEN   AGE   OF   GENIUS  267 

indeed,  can  be  so  supremely  good ;  and  that  harmony  is 
the  final  result,  as  it  is  the  final  ideal,  of  the  greater 
independence  and  individuality  of  woman  at  the  present 
time  is  true.  Not  antagonism,  but  unity;  that  unity 
which  is  the  harmonious  blending  of  two  distinct  chords, 
far  richer  than  that  which  should  consist  of  one  chord 
and  an  echo. 

Mr.  Lowell  had  the  ethical  radicalism  of  the  moral 
enthusiast,  and  the  social  conservatism  of  his  age  and 
generation.  This  is  revealed  all  through  the  letters 
that  make  up  the  two  large  and  interesting  volumes 
edited  by  Professor  Norton.  Most  interesting  read- 
ing these  letters  are,  and  they  ofi'er  great  material 
for  character-study.  The  incidental  glimpses  they 
give  of  notable  people  and  the  life  of  the  day  are 
delightful. 

Dr.  Samuel  Gridley  Howe,  the  great  philanthropist, 
and  his  brilliant  and  gifted  wife  lived  in  South  Boston 
in  these  early  years.  Their  home  was  a  Mecca  of  high 
and  poetic  pilgrimage,  and  such  guests  as  frequented  it 
were  indeed  the  ornaments  of  a  household.  Mrs.  Howe 
has  always  claimed  for  herself  only  the  modest  title  of 
a  student,  but  how  rich  are  the  results  of  that  lifelong 
devotion  to  intellectual  and  spiritual  ideals  those 
best  know  who  have  been  privileged  to  approach 
most  nearly  to  all  this  wide  and  beautiful  culture. 
Mrs.  Howe's  essential  biography  might  almost  be 
found  in  this  closing  stanza  of  her  poem  entitled 
"  Philosophy : "  — 


268  BOSTON   DAYS 


"I  know  not  if  I've  caught  the  matchless  mood 
In  which  impassioned  Petrarch  sung  of  thee  ; 
But  this  I  know  —  the  world  its  plenitude 
May  keep,  so  I  may  share  thy  beggary." 

The  keynote  of  the  life  of  Mrs.  Howe  may  be  dis- 
cerned in  this  stanza  which  suggests  her  poetic  insight 
and  breadth  of  culture.  In  her  literary  work  Mrs.  Howe 
stands  pre-eminent  for  philosophic  thought.  As  the 
author  of  the  immortal  "■  Battle  Hymn  of  the  Republic," 
her  place  in  lyric  art  will  be  recognized  while  art  shall 
live.  In  the  great  field  of  philanthropy  and  social  and 
political  reforms  she  has  for  half  a  century  faced  the 
world's  passion  and  inertia ;  she  has  seen  glory  in  the 
depths  of  death.  She  has  been  one  of  the  nobler  few 
whose  voices  proclaim  in  the  wilderness  the  triumphal 
progress  of  truth.  Her  messages  to  the  world  have 
always  embodied  the  fruition  of  high  purpose,  the 
finest  insight  of  thought  and  of  generous  and  liberal 
culture. 

Born  in  New  York  (May  27,  1819)  Mrs.  Howe  came 
in  her  early  youth  to  Boston,  with  which  city  her  life 
has  been  identified.  Here  she  met  with  Emerson,  Sum- 
ner, Margaret  Fuller,  James  Freeman  Clarke,  Horace 
Mann,  and  others  who  were  destined  to  be  the  friends 
and  co-workers  of  her  future  life.  There  is  a  striking 
thought  in  one  of  George  Eliot's  novels  where  she 
speaks  of  the  indifference  with  which  we  may  view  our 
unintroduced  neighbor,  while  Destiny  stands  by,  sar- 
castic, with  the  dramatis  jjersonm  folded  in  her  hands. 
Something  of  this  thought  suggests  itself  as  one  sees,  as 


Julia  Ward  Hoive 


THE   GOLDEN   AGE   OF   GENIUS  269 

in  a  vision,  this  beautiful  young  woman,  in  all  her  charm 
and  loveliness,  just  brought  to  the  threshold  of  what 
was  to  be  her  future  life.  Julia  Ward  had  an  unusual 
fascination  of  manner,  we  are  told,  and  a  great  enlarge- 
ment of  life —  in  the  line  of  the  natural  evolution 
of  noble  powers  —  awaited  her.  Among  the  new 
friends  presented  to  her  was  one  —  a  man  of  picturesque 
and  magnetic  manner  —  of  a  presence  calculated  to  com- 
pel those  around  him  to  a  more  serious  and  thoughtful 
plane,  a  hero  who  held  the  accorded  place  of  a  leader 
in  this  galaxy  of  thinkers.  This  was  Dr.  Samuel  Grid- 
ley  Howe.  "  Accustomed  to  a  society  of  learned  men 
whose  whole  energy  was  given  to  thought  and  specula- 
tion, what  wonder  that  the  character  of  the  chivalrous 
man,  who  thought  and  worked  out  his  thought  with  an 
enthusiasm  and  steady  persistence  which  compelled 
success,  should  attract  the  sensitive,  romantic  young  girl 
who  had  lived  hitherto  in  an  atmosphere  of  speculative 
thought,"  wrote  Maud  Howe  (now  Mrs.  John  Elliott)  of 
her  father,  and  perhaps  no  words  could  more  graphically 
depict  the  attraction  between  this  hero  of  the  hour  and 
the  lovely  young  woman.  In  1 843  Miss  Ward  and  Dr. 
Howe  were  married,  and  immediately  sailed  for  Europe, 
remaining  abroad  two  years.  It  was  a  charming  social 
epoch  in  England  at  this  time,  as  is  so  graphically  re- 
vealed in  the  letters  of  Motley,  who  depicts  London 
society  in  some  of  its  most  brilliant  phases ;  and  Dr. 
and  Mrs.  Howe  were  cordially  received  by  a  host  of 
famous  people.  Among  these  were  Dickens,  Monckton 
Milnes,   afterward    Lord    Houghton,    Carlyle,    Sydney 


270  BOSTON   DAYS 


Smith,  the  Duchess  of  Sutherland,  Thomas  Moore, 
Samuel  Rogers,  and  Lord  Morpeth.  Sydney  Smith, 
alluding  to  Dr.  Howe's  work  for  Laura  Bridgman, 
spoke  of  him  as  "  the  modern  Pygmalion  who  had  put 
life  into  a  statue."  A  long  and  delightful  tour  followed 
through  the  Netherlands,  Switzerland,  the  Tyrol,  and 
Germany,  and  at  last  they  approached  the  Eternal 
City.  This  touched  the  poetic  heart  of  Mrs.  Howe 
most  deeply,  and  in  a  poem  called  "  Rome,"  in  her  first 
volume,  "  Passion   Flowers,"  these   lines   occur  at  the 

close :  — 

"  Oh,  my  Eome, 
As  I  have  loved  thee,  rest  God's  love  with  thee  !  " 

And  again,  in  "  The  City  of  My  Love  "  :  — 

"  She  sits  among  the  eternal  hills 

Their  crown  thrice  glorious  and  dear  ; 
Her  voice  as  a  thousand  tongues 
Of  silver  fountains,  gurgling  clear. 


"And,  though  it  seem  a  childish  prayer, 
I  've  breathed  it  oft  that  when  I  die 
As  thy  remembrance  dear  in  it, 

That  heart  in  thee  might  buried  lie." 

It  was  in  Rome  that  Mrs.  Howe  first  knew  the  rap- 
ture of  the  mother's  bliss,  for  there  was  born  her  first 
child,  Julia  Romana,  later  Mrs.  Anagnos,  over  whose 
silent  rest  in  Mt.  Auburn  the  roses  of  many  summers 
have  now  bloomed  and  faded. 

Returning  to  Boston,  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Howe  made  their 
home  in  the  Institution  for  the  Blind,  of  which  he  was 


THE   GOLDEN   AGE   OF   GENIUS  271 

the  director.  Happy  and  beautiful  years,  rich  with  the 
mental  wealth  of  Boston's  golden  age,  followed.  Mrs. 
Howe's  first  distinct  essay  in  literature  was  the  volume 
of  poems  called  "  Passion  Flowers/'  published  in  1853. 
One  poem  in  this  volume  entitled  "  The  Royal 
Guest"  is  at  once  so  significant  in  thought  and  so 
little  known  to  latter-day  readers  that  it  will  be  given 
here  in  its  completeness. 

"  They  tell  me,  T  am  shrewd  with  other  men, 
With  thee  I  'm  slow  and  difficult  of  speech ; 
With  others,  I  may  guide  the  car  of  talk. 
Thou  wing'st  it  oft  to  realms  beyond  my  reach. 

"  If  other  guests  should  come,  I  'd  deck  my  hair. 
And  choose  my  newest  garment  from  the  shelf  ; 
When  thou  art  bidden,  I  would  clothe  my  heart 
With  holiest  purpose,  as  for  God  himself. 

"  For  them,  I  wile  the  hours  with  tale  or  song, 
Or  web  of  fancy,  fringed  with  careless  rhyme  ; 
But  how  to  find  a  fitting  lay  for  thee, 
Who  hast  the  harmonies  of  every  time  ? 

"  Oh  friend  beloved  !   I  sit  apart  and  dumb, 
Sometimes  in  sorrow,  oft  in  joy  divine ; 
My  lip  will  falter,  but  my  prison'd  heart 
Springs  forth,  to  measure  its  faint  pulse  with  thine. 

"  Thou  art  to  me  most  like  a  royal  guest, 
Whose  travels  bring  him  to  some  lowly  roof. 
Where  simple  rustics  spread  their  festal  fare, 
And  blushing,  own  it  is  not  good  enough. 

*'  Bethink  thee,  then,  whene'er  thou  com'st  to  mo 
From  high  emprise  and  noble  toil  to  rest, 
M}'-  thoughts  are  weak  and  trivial,  matched  with  thine, 
But  the  poor  mansion  offers  thee  its  best." 


272  BOSTON   DAYS 


From  the  world  of  scholarship  and  the  world  of  spir- 
itual insight  has  Mrs.  Howe  always  drawn  her  strength 
and  her  inspiration.  During  her  entire  life  she  has  kept 
the  habits  of  the  student,  nor  is  the  ecstasy  of  the  mys- 
tic unknown  to  her.  In  her  poem  entitled  *' Visions  " 
this  stanza  occurs :  — 

"  Then  Life  rises  to  entomb  me, 
Waking,  I  am  all  alone ; 
Half  I  feel  Christ  passes  from  me, . 
Half  I  feel  He  is  not  gone." 

These  lines  flash  a  searchlight  on  her  intellectual  pro- 
cesses. She  has  been  a  deep  student  of  Swedenborg, 
Kant,  Spinoza,  Fichte,  and  Hegel.  She  has  made  her 
own  the  entire  realm  of  literature.  As  an  author,  she 
truly  deserves  the  name  of  poet ;  as  a  prose  writer,  she 
is  supreme  on  the  philosophic  side  of  life ;  as  a  leader 
in  social  progress,  she  has  given  to  contemporary  life 
new  ideals  and  noble  standards.  Of  the  near  and 
tender  relations  of  the  fireside  and  the  more  intimate 
circle  of  familiar  friends,  one  of  her  daughters  has  well 
written :  — 

' '  To  those  who  have  lived  nearest  to  the  deep  heart, 
its  warmth  has  overcome  the  griefs  and  disappointments 
of  the  world.  To  those  who  from  a  distance  can  only 
judge  of  the  woman  by  her  work,  the  glow  of  her  genius 
is  a  beneficent  and  helpful  light.  As  poet,  philosopher, 
reformer,  she  is  known  to  the  world;  to  her  own  she  is 
dearest  as  woman,  friend,  and  mother." 

In  writing  to  Charlotte  Cushman  Mrs.  Howe  once 
said,  "The   grandeur  of  the  human  life  is  such  that 


^  ^^ 


vf 


NK 


^'^ 


THE   GOLDEN   AGE   OF   GENIUS  273 

advantageous  circumstances  do  not  really  heighten  it, 
though  to  our  short- si^'ited  gaze  they  seem  to  do  so," 
and  these  words  ma;^  stand  written  of  her  own  life. 
The  scenery  of  her  achievements  in  this  world  has 
always  been  that  of  refined  elegance  and  beauty,  yet 
these  can  neither  add  to  nor  detract  from  the  signifi- 
cance of  the  personal  impress  she  leaves  on  two  cen- 
turies. Her  vocation  is  distinctively  that  of  poet  and 
prophet.  In  all  the  range  of  poetic  literature  it  is 
difficult  to  find  any  single  poet  who  appeals  so  directly 
to  the  spiritual  energy  alone  and  supreme  as  Mrs. 
Howe.  Like  the  handwriting  on  the  wall,  we  find 
such  thought  as  in  these  lines:  — 

"  Power,  reft  of  aspiration  ; 
Passion,  lacking  inspiration  ; 
Leisure,  void  of  contemplation. 

"  Thus  shall  danger  overcome  thee, 
Fretted  luxury  consume  thee, 
All  divineness  vanish  from  thee." 

Any  study  of  Mrs.  Howe's  life  seems  to  reveal  that 
she  has  certainly  fulfilled  —  whether  or  not  she  has 
clearly  recognized  the  special  gift  and  grace  laid  upon 
her  —  a  very  distinctive  vocation  and  one  in  which 
among  all  other  great  women  she  yet  stands  alone,  that 
of  speaking  the  highest  counsel  to  the  soul  in  the  most 
concentrated  and  intensely  vital  expression.  Like  Dr. 
Holmes,  Mrs.  Howe  has  been  the  "poet  of  occasions" 
at  a  vast  number  of  these  festivities  which  have  always 
numerously  enlivened  the  Boston  days.     The  group  of 

18 


274  BOSTON   DAYS 


immortals  that  made  the  golden  age  of  Boston  were 
never  found  wanting  in  mutual  appreciation.  The 
verses  of  occasion  always  and  of  necessity  borrow  some- 
thing from  the  immediate  atmosphere  and  when  divested 
of  this  lose  somewhat  of  their  aroma,  yet  they  may 
invite  the  test  of  time.  She  has  also,  like  all  persons 
who  live  in  more  or  less  daily  companionship  with  the 
muses,  written  much  verse  of  the  mere  facile  felicity  of 
the  moment,  which  has  little  claim  to  literary  immor- 
tality. All  this,  of  course,  in  any  poet's  life  is  taken  for 
granted.  There  is  a  portion  of  Tennyson  which,  had  it 
not  the  association  of  his  name  and  his  finer  expres- 
sions, would  be  held  as  of  little  claim  to  consideration. 
But  we  do  not  judge  people,  even  poets,  by  their  defects 
and  negations.  The  high-water  mark,  if  touched  only 
once  in  a  lifetime,  is  the  only  abiding  standard  from 
which  to  predicate  a  judgment.  All  below  that  is 
merely  of  the  temporary  and  objective  world,  and  holds 
no  permanent  significancCo 

It  was  early  in  her  life  that  Mrs.  Howe  became 
convinced  of  the  importance  of  the  political  enfran- 
chisement of  women.  For  years  before,  Mrs.  Lucy 
Stone  —  gentle,  dignified,  logical,  and  at  once  winning 
and  commanding  in  her  silvery-voiced  eloquence  — 
had  led  this  hope,  which  once  seemed  so  forlorn,  and 
has  now  acquired  a  political  and  national  importance. 
To  Mrs.  Stone,  Mrs.  Howe,  Mrs.  Livermore,  and  Colonel 
Higginson  the  early  phases  of  this  reform  owed  much 
of  its  basis  of  social  dignity.  To  them,  as  persons  of 
noble  intellect,  of  scholarly  culture,  of  social  elevation, 


THE   GOLDEN   AGE   OF   GENIUS  275 

and  loveliness  of  character,  it  must  owe  its  first  social 
prestige  and  its  claim  to  higher  recognition. 

One  of  the  most  important  features  in  the  life  of 
Mrs.  Howe  has  been  that  of  her  public  addresses. 
Nothing  could  have  seemed  more  remote  from  the 
probable  future  of  the  brilliant  girl  of  society  than  that 
she  should  preside  over  conventions  assembled  in  the 
name  of  social  reforms.  Yet  as  her  spirit  expanded 
in  deepening  lines  of  thought ;  as  she  came  into 
that  inheritance  of  what  Professor  Harris  well  terms 
"the  larger  self,"  that  infinite  life  which  the  finite 
life  even  here  may  begin  to  live,  as  her  sympathies 
broadened  and  she  came  more  and  more  into  her 
kingdom  of  the  intellectual  world,  she  entered  upon 
a  new  phase  of  the  work  for  which  she  was  heaven- 
commissioned. 

As  Mary  A.  Livermore  stands  distinctively  for  spirit- 
uality of  life  ;  as  Lucy  Stone  stood  distinctively  for  the 
political  enfranchisement  of  women ;  as  Frances  Willard 
stood  for  temperance,  so  Mrs.  Howe  stands  distinctively 
for  culture.  No  other  woman  of  corresponding  culture 
in  our  own  country  has  so  intimately  related  herself  to 
public  life. 

In  poetic  phrase  she  gives  utterance  to  such  keen 
insights  as  this  : 

*'  If  the  vain  and  the  silly  bind  thee, 

I  cannot  unlock  thy  chain  ; 
If  sin  and  the  senses  blind  thee, 

Thyself  must  endure  the  pain ; 
If  the  arrows  of  conscience  find  thee, 

Thou  must  conquer  thy  peace  again." 


276  BOSTON  DAYS 


Mrs.  Howe's  poems  are  valuable  as  a  moral  breviary, 
a  spiritual  tonic.  They  call  one  to  a  renewal  of  energy, 
to  the  realization  of  the  significant  question  "  What  is 
the  office  of  modern  society  ? "  She  questions  and  she 
defines  its  office  as  the  learning  how  to  well  use  its 
resources. 

"No  gift  can  make  rich  those  who  are  poor  in 
wisdom,"  she  says;  and  again,  "It  is  not  good  for 
beauty  that  it  be  a  profession."  And  of  wealth  she 
asserts :  "  To  me  the  worship  of  wealth  means  the 
crowning  of  low  merit  with  undeserved  honor ;  the 
setting  of  successful  villany  above  unsuccessful  virtue. 
It  means  neglect  and  isolation  for  the  few  who  follow 
a  heart's  high  hope  through  want  and  pain,  through 
evil  report  and  through  good  report." 

Of  the  spiritual  wealth  of  her  life  she  herself  simply 
says  :  "  I  have  only  drawn  from  history  and  philosophy 
some  understanding  of  human  life,  some  lessons  in  the 
value  of  thought  for  thought's  sake,  and,  above  all,  a  sense 
of  the  dignity  of  character  above  every  other  dignity." 

Of  the  famous  Radical  Club  Mrs.  Howe  was  always 
a  leading  spirit.  In  the  history  of  society  it  is  hardly 
probable  that  at  any  one  club  there  were  ever  assembled 
so  wonderful  a  galaxy  of  genius  and  high  talent  as  at 
this  gathering,  organized  by  the  Rev.  John  Sargent  and 
Mrs.  Sargent,  at  whose  home  the  meetings  took  place. 
Among  these  were  Emerson,  Sumner,  Dr.  and  Mrs. 
Howe,  John  Weiss,  Theodore  Parker,  Dr.  Hedge, 
Colonel  Higginson,  James  Freeman  Clarke,  the  Rev. 
Phillips   Brooks,    John    Fiske,    David    Wasson,   Mrs. 


THE   GOLDEN   AGE  OF   GENIUS  277 

Cheney,  the  Rev.  W.  H.  Channing,  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Edwin  P.  Whipple,  Mrs.  Moulton,  Mr.  Frothingham, 
Henry  James,  Miss  Peabody,  Professor  Peirce,  Professor 
Calvin  E.  Stowe,  Lydia  Maria  Child,  John  G.  Whittier, 
and  many  other  notable  people  were,  at  one  time  or 
another,  present  at  these  remarkable  gatherings.  The 
great  and  gifted  of  this  century  have  been  the  friends 
of  Mrs.  Howe.  Such  men  as  Emerson,  Longfellow, 
Lowell,  Holmes,  Whipple,  Sumner,  Agassiz,  Motley, 
Peirce,  Victor  Hugo,  and  Lieber  have  delighted  in  her 
society. 

The  Radical  Club  was  one  of  the  intellectual  land- 
marks of  Boston  between  1867-80,  and  a  centre  that 
radiated  new  energy  by  its  discussion  of  problems  of 
thought. 

The  club  met  on  Monday  mornings  at  the  home  of 
the  Rev.  and  Mrs.  John  Sargent,  and  the  subjects  dis- 
cussed were  the  purely  ethical  and  transcendental. 
The  discussions  were  not  impractical,  for  nothing  is  so 
practical  as  ideas ;  but  they  were  not,  one  may  say, 
ideas  at  that  time  practically  applied.  The  world  has 
now  progressed  to  this  higher  realization  that  the  bent 
and  aim  of  ideas  is  not  intellectual  brilliancy  or  achieve- 
ment, per  se,  but  the  betterment  of  humanity.  Instead 
of  discussing  the  gods  on  Olympus,  we  discuss  the 
problems  that  invade  modern  social  and  economic  life. 
This  is  not  the  forsaking  of  intellectual  and  artistic 
ideals ;  it  is  their  fulfilment  and  application. 

"  What  a  group  these  were !  "  wrote  a  guest  of  the 
club:   "Henry  W.  Longfellow,  with  his  white  head 


278  BOSTON   DAYS 


and  patriarchal  beard ;  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes,  looking, 
as  he  always  does,  and  as,  I  fancy,  he  will  to  the  last 
of  his  days,  a  boy  in  the  midst  of  his  white-headed 
contemporaries ;  George  William  Curtis,  with  his  refined 
face,  whereon  the  work  and  wear  of  his  faithful,  busy 
life  are  beginning  to  tell  visibly  in  the  lines  here  and 
there;  Frothingham  of  New  York,  with  his  tranquil 
equipoise  of  manner,  his  cultivated  face,  and  quiet 
humor ;  and  Lydia  Maria  Child,  with  scores  of  others,  — 
clergymen,  literary  men,  and  journalists." 

Theodore  Parker  read  at  one  meeting  a  paper  on 
"  The  Immanence  of  God,"  of  which  one  of  the  members 
said :  — 

"  Then  comes  a  voice  from  heaven.  A  man,  one  fifth 
flesh  and  four  fifths  flame,  kindles  under  his  inspiration 
into  a  miraculous  light,  and  says  words  that  can  never  be 
forgotten.  I  dare  not  try  to  repeat  them.  Who  heard 
John  Weiss  can  nevermore  be  quite  as  petty  as  his  old 
poor  self." 

Mrs.  Howe  has  well  characterized  the  work  of  the 
Radical  Club  as  a  "high  congress  of  souls  in  which 
many  noble  thoughts  were  uttered." 

Boston  without  Edward  Everett  Hale  would  be  more 
bereft  than  the  play  of  "Hamlet"  without  the  melan- 
choly Dane. 

According  to  Colonel  Higginson's  definition  that  to 
be  truly  cosmopolitan  a  man  must  be  at  home  even  in 
his  own  country,  Edward  Everett  Hale  is  a  cosmopoli- 
tan, and  it  is  a  suggestive  fact  that  the  author  of  ^*  A 
Man  Without  a  Country "  is  one  who  may  almost  be 


THE   GOLDEN   AGE   OF   GENIUS  279 

said  to  have  all  countries  and  all  generations  for  his 
own,  for  the  chief  characteristic  of  this  noted  divine  is 
his  wide  relatedness  to  life.  His  personal  influence 
has  been,  without  a  doubt,  the  one  most  potent  of  any 
single  or  individual  influence  in  his  native  city.  As  a 
clergyman,  author,  journalist,  lecturer,  reformer,  and  a 
man  of  society,  he  meets  and  mingles  with  many  circles 
of  life  more  or  less  foreign  to  each  other.  By  just 
what  occult  law  of  dispensation  everybody  who  wants 
anything  feels  inspired  to  seek  Dr.  Hale  is  not  quite 
clear  to  the  average  mind ;  but  it  is  unmistakably  clear 
that  if  he  had  not  a  liberal  inheritance  of  what  the 
Yankees  call  '^faculty"  he  would  have  been  a  man 
without  any  (earthly)  country  long  ago,  whatever  he 
might  have  possessed  in  a  better  world  than  this. 
Many  of  the  young  women  of  his  parish  take  great  de- 
light in  assisting  him  in  this  drift  of  work  that  assails 
the  pleasant  household. 

The  home  of  the  Hales  is  in  the  charming  suburb  of 
Roxbury  (Boston  Highlands),  —  a  commodious,  cream- 
colored  house,  embowered  in  trees,  and  with  a  porch 
vine-wreathed  with  the  woodbine.  The  rooms  are  all 
more  or  less  filled  with  books  and  papers,  and  the 
hospitable  rooms  have  an  air  as  if  they  were  a  place 
where  people  enjoyed  themselves.  In  the  summer,  if 
they  do  not  go  to  Europe,  the  family  betake  themselves 
to  the  "red  house,"  on  the  Connecticut  shore,  where 
they  can  live  half  the  time  out  of  doors.  His  door-bell 
rings  from  morning  till  night.  He  is  sought  for  by 
everybody  and  for  everything.     He  is  not  merely  the 


280  BOSTON   DAYS 


pastor  of  his  own  parish,  he  is  apparently  the  pastor 
of  every  parish,  and  of  people  who  have  no  parish 
at  all.  He  is  hailed  as  the  special  patron  saint 
of  every  conceivable  municipal  enterprise,  —  political, 
economic,  literary,  artistic,  philanthropic,  or  educational. 
Social  life  rises  in  high  tide  at  his  door,  and,  withal,  he 
lives  the  life  of  the  kingdom  of  heaven  in  that  he  is 
here  not  to  be  ministered  unto,  but  to  minister. 

The  life  of  Dr.  Hale  has  stood  for  the  greater  part 
of  this  century  as  one  of  the  witnesses  for  the  power  of 
good  over  evil ;  for  intellectual  enlargement  and  spiritual 
illumination  over  ignorance  and  blindness.  Edward 
Everett  Hale  is  probably  the  most  vital  element  of 
Boston :  the  citizen  who  unites  the  largest  sympathies 
with  the  largest  degree  of  executive  power.  His  energy 
is  stupendous.  His  power  of  extracting  the  utmost 
worth  of  a  day  is  little  less  than  marvellous.  Not  less 
marvellous  is  the  power  of  galvanizing  other  people 
into  a  working  mood  and  enabling  them  to  get  the 
best  and  the  utmost  out  of  the  hour.  He  is  a  great 
organizer  and  a  great  inspirer   of  organizations. 

Dr.  Hale  can  trace  his  descent  back  through  almost 
three  hundred  years  of  notable  ancestry,  —  the  first 
American  of  this  family  having  been  Rev.  John  Hale, 
born  in  Charlestown,  Mass.,  in  1636,  and  who  died  on 
May  9, 1700.  He  was  a  graduate  of  Harvard,  as  nearly 
all  his  descendants  have  been.  Nathan  Hale,  the 
eminent  soldier,  whose  statue  is  in  Central  Park,  New 
York,  was  a  great-uncle  of  Edward  Everett  Hale,  whose 
father  bore   the  same   name,  —  Nathan.     He   married 


THE   GOLDEN   AGE   OF   GENIUS  281 

Sarah  Preston  Everett,  a  sister  of  Edward  Everett,  and 
their  children  were :  Nathan,  born  in  1818  ;  Lucretia 
Peabody,  born  in  1820 ;  Edward  Everett  (the  present 
great  divine),  born  April  3,  1822 ;  Charles,  born  in 
1831,  and  Susan,  in  1838. 

Dr.  Hale  married  a  niece  of  Henry  Ward  Beecher 
and  of  Mrs.  Stowe,  and  his  own  family  consists  of 
three  or  four  sons  and  one  daughter,  Ellen  Day  Hale, 
who  has  made  no  little  reputation  as  an  artist.  Of 
the  sons,  Philip  Hale  is  an  artist  and  art  teacher  ; 
Robert  Beverly,  who  showed  great  promise  as  a 
writer,  died  at  the  early  age  of  twenty-four,  in  October 
of  1895. 

Dr.  Hale's  father,  Nathan  Hale  the  second,  was  born 
in  Westhampton,  Mass.,  in  1784,  and  died  in  Boston 
in  February  of  1865.  He  was  a  graduate  of  Williams 
College,  and  afterward  studied  law  and  was  admitted 
to  the  Boston  bar  in  1810.  In  1814  he  purchased  the 
"  Boston  Advertiser,"  the  oldest  daily  newspaper  of  this 
city,  and  was  for  many  years  its  owner  and  editor.  In 
this  office  his  son,  Edward  Everett,  learned  to  set  type, 
and  he  has  often  related  how  he  had  served  in  every 
capacity  on  the  paper  from  that  of  reporter  up  to  the 
editor-in-chief.  Dr.  Hale  had  the  advantage,  indeed, 
of  growing  up  in  touch  with  affairs  and  events  of  im- 
portance. His  father  was  the  president  of  the  Boston 
and  Worcester  Railroad  Company,  the  first  transpor- 
tation in  New  England  to  make  use  of  steam.  His 
father  was  also  a  member  of  the  Academy  of  Arts  and 
Sciences,  and  served  in  the  Legislature  of  his  State. 


282  BOSTON   DAYS 


Edward  Everett  Hale  graduated  from  Harvard  in 
1839 ;  he  studied  divinity  and  was  ordained  as  a  minis- 
ter in  1842,  and  in  1844  was  called  to  the  Second 
Unitarian  Church  in  Worcester,  where  he  remained 
until  1856,  when  he  accepted  the  call  to  the  "South 
Congregational "  Church  in  Boston,  of  which  for  over 
forty  years  he  has  remained  the  pastor. 

The  best-known  literary  work  of  Dr.  Hale  is  in  the 
short  stories  entitled  "  The  Man  Without  a  Country  " 
and  '^My  Double,  and  How  He  Undid  Me."  The 
former  has  taken  its  rightful  place  among  American 
classics,  and  the  latter  ranks  as  inimitable  comedy. 
"  Ten  Times  One  Is  Ten  "  is  a  story  that  has  caused 
the  founding  of  clubs  and  which  has  entered  intimately 
into  more  lives  as  a  stimulating,  helpful  influence  than 
perhaps  any  other  tale  ever  written. 

Dr.  Hale  accomplishes  his  enormous  amount  of  work 
by  himself  adhering  to  a  plan  which  involves  method 
and  concentration.  He  often  speaks  of  the  "  two  hours 
a  day,"  or  "  the  three  hours  a  day  "  people ;  that  is, 
those  who  will  hold  the  one  or  the  other  stated  time 
wholly  and  entirely  to  their  work.  He  regards  this 
as  the  utmost  that  is  desirable,  even,  not  to  say  possible, 
for  he  considers  that  social  and  neighborly  and  helpful 
duties  are  just  as  important  to  the  symmetry  of  perfect 
living  as  is  any  special  work.  In  which  he  is  right. 
It  is  the  quality  of  life  which  is  of  supreme  importance, 
rather  than  any  one  special  achievement. 

If  one  seeks  in  Dr.  Hale's  system  of  ethics  for  the 
secret  of  his  marvellous  activity  and  comprehensiveness, 


THE   GOLDEN   AGE   OF   GENIUS  283 

he  will  find  it  to  lie,  perhaps,  in  Dr.  Hale's  mental 
attitude  toward  society. 

Of  his  religious  life  his  simple  words  are  :  — 

"  I  always  knew  God  loved  me,  and  I  was  always  grate- 
ful to  Him  for  the  world  He  placed  me  in.  I  always 
liked  to  tell  Him  so,  and  to  receive  His  suggestions  to 


It  is  hardly  possible  to  understand  how,  in  the 
tumultuously  busy  life  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Edward  Everett 
Hale,  he  could  ever  have  produced  so  large  an  amount 
of  literary  work.  His  life  is  manifold,  each  day.  He 
has  never  had  that  sense  of  seclusion  and  leisure  which 
has  been  held  to  be  the  author's  best  capital,  and  yet 
has  done  literary  work  enough  for  a  man  of  letters 
alone.  When  Prof.  Benjamin  Peirce  asserted  that 
man  is  a  machine  for  the  conversion  of  material  into 
spiritual  power,  he  seemed  to  define  Dr.  Hale.  He  is 
a  very  spiritual  dynamo. 

Dr.  Hale  has  never  been  a  transcendentalist,  although 
he  was  sympathetic  with  its  aspirations  and  its  struggle 
for  illumination.  His  sense  of  the  humorous  was  always 
keen,  and  he  has,  too,  a  deep  interest  in  the  natural 
unfolding  of  life  that  demands  no  hothouse  forcing. 
^'  You  are  not,"  he  will  say,  "  God's  child  on  Sunday 
and  the  world's  on  Monday  ;  you  are  God's  child  all 
the  time."  The  mysticism  in  the  transcendental  move- 
ment did  not  attract  him.  The  problem  he  saw  was 
this  :  **  How  to  gain  the  life,  strength  of  will,  character, 
and  purposes,  by  which  alone  can  the  man  make  his 


284-  BOSTON   DAYS 


bodily  strength  and  his  mental  discipline  to  be  of  any 
real  value."  His  conception  of  living  is  that  each  day 
shall  be  consecrated  to  body,  mind,  and  soul,  and  that 
the  man — the  real  man — must  control  with  absolute 
sway  the  mind  and  the  body.  '^  Sleep/'  he  says,  "  is 
the  first  of  the  physical  duties  ;  good  sleep,  and  enough 
of  it."  He  advises  young  people  to  take  a  certain  time 
each  day,  two  hours  or  three  hours,  for  personal  culture 

—  mental  and  spiritual  —  but  he  regards  two  as  better 
than  three  hours.  "  You  are  in  a  world  knit  in  with 
other  people/'  he  says.  "  Accept  that  position  once  for 
all,  and  do  not  struggle  against  it."  Instead  of  counsels 
to  avoid  social  life,  Dr.  Hale  holds  social  duties  as 
among  the  first  and  the  most  important. 

Dr.  Hale's  eightieth  birthday  (April  3,  1902)  was 
celebrated  in  Boston  with  a  large  gathering  in  Symphony 
Hall,  when  ^^  troops  of  friends  "  indeed  brought  their 
tribute  in  music,  eloquence,  and  friendly  greeting.  The 
occasion  was  a  memorable  one,  and  could  not  but 
recall  a  passage  from  Bulwer  as  applicable  to  Dr.  Hale, 

—  a  passage  that  runs  as  follows  :  — 

' '  But  the  final  greatness  of  a  fortunate  man  is  rarely 
made  by  any  violent  effort  of  his  own.  He  has  sown  the 
seed  in  the  time  foregone,  and  the  ripe  time  brings  up 
the  harvest.  His  fate  seems  taken  out  of  his  own  control ; 
greatness  seems  thrust  upon  him.  He  has  made  himself, 
as  it  were,  a  want  to  the  nation,  a  thing  necessary  to  it ; 
he  has  identified  himself  with  his  age,  and  in  the  wreath 
or  the  crown  on  his  brow  the  age  itself  seems  to  put 
forth  its  flowers." 


THE   GOLDEN   AGE   OF   GENIUS  285 

Dr.  Hale  has  sown  the  seed  of  every  noble  and 
generous  quality  durmg  his  long  and  beautiful  life,  and 
its  flowering  is  the  natural  result,  —  the  inevitable  har- 
vest of  such  sowing.  In  the  divine  sense  he  has  per- 
petually lost  his  life ;  he  has  forgotten  all  save  the 
Master's  service,  and  like  Him  who  came  not  to  be 
ministered  unto,  but  to  minister,  he  has  given  his 
powers  in  the  perfect  surrender  of  service  to  humanity. 
Not  the  least  of  this  service  is  in  his  sane  and  healthy 
mental  attitude  toward  life.  He  invests  it  with  the 
atmosphere  of  simplicity,  courage,  cheerfulness,  and 
faith,  —  the  essential  elements  of  happy,  harmonious 
living. 

As  scholar,  critic,  translator,  and  editor.  Prof.  Charles 
Eliot  Norton  stands  pre-eminent.  His  home  on 
Shady  Hill,  Cambridge,  near  the  college  grounds,  is 
one  of  peculiar  charm  in  the  treasures  of  art  and  litera- 
ture —  especially  of  early  Italian  art,  as  represented  in 
pictures  from  Tintoretto  and  Titian  —  by  which  he  is 
surrounded.  The  most  accomplished  translator  and 
interpreter  of  Dante,  the  friend  of  Ruskin,  the  editor  of 
Lowell's  letters,  giving  to  the  world  such  a  portrait  of 
his  friend  as  will  stand  forever  eminent  in  the  literature 
of  biography,  —  in  this  home  does  the  great  scholar  and 
critic  find  an  ideal  environment. 

Professor  Norton  —  whose  retirement  from  Harvard 
in  1898  was  an  event  deplored  by  the  great  University 
in  which  he  had  so  long  held  the  Chair  of  Fine  Arts  — 
is  a  marked  figure  in  New  England  life.  By  tempera- 
ment, taste,  and  culture  he  is  the  exponent,  facile  prin- 


286  BOSTON   DAYS 


ceps,  of  belles-lettres  in  America.  He  is  a  scholar,  a 
critic,  and,  though  not  a  poet,  he  is  an  appreciator  of 
poets,  and  their  interpreter.  Perhaps  that  office  is  even 
more  rare.  Between  Lowell  and  Professor  Norton  there 
existed  the  most  ideal  friendship.  Mr.  Lowell  was 
nine  years  the  senior,  and  that  Professor  Norton  looked 
up  to  him  even  more  than  these  few  years  of  seniority 
would  necessarily  invite  is  revealed  in  the  dedication  of 
his  new  (1891)  translation  of  the  "Divina  Commedia" 
to  Mr.  Lowell  in  these  words :  — 

''  It  is  a  happiness  for  me  to  connect  this  volume  with 
the  memory  of  my  friend  and  master  from  youth.  I  was 
but  a  beginner  in  the  study  of  the  Divine  Comedy  when  I 
first  had  his  incomparable  aid  in  the  understanding  of  it." 

The  friendship  between  them  was  very  close  and 
sympathetic,  and  it  is  not  unfrequently  related  of  Mr. 
Lowell  that  when  asked  if  he  would  not  like  to  meet 
So  and  So,  he  would  reply  in  a  kind  of  sensitive  irrita- 
tion, "  No  ;  I  don't  want  to  see  anybody  but  Charles 
Norton." 

Prof.  Charles  Eliot  Norton  is  the  son  of  Andrews 
Norton,  a  w^ell-known  Unitarian  theologian  of  New 
England.  Andrews  Norton  was  born  in  Hingham, 
Mass.,  in  1786,  and  died  in  Newport,  R.  I.,  in  1852. 
He  graduated  at  Harvard  in  1804,  and  later  became  a 
tutor  at  Bowdoin  College.  He  was  afterward  the  libra- 
rian for  some  time  at  Harvard ;  a  lecturer  on  Biblical 
criticism,  and  in  1819  was  appointed  to  the  Dexter 
chair  of  sacred  literature  in  the  new  Divinity  School  of 


THE   GOLDEN   AGE   OF   GENIUS  287 

Cambridge,  which  he  held  until  1830,  when  he  went 
into  what  in  the  parlance  of  the  day  was  called  "  literary 
retirement."  Dr.  Andrews  Norton  was  then  but  forty- 
six  years  of  age,  but  he  considered  himself  approaching 
old  age.  He  still  led  the  Unitarian  protest,  however, 
against  Calvin,  although  he  opposed  the  liberal  radical- 
ism of  Theodore  Parker  with  equal  energy.  In  his  last 
years  he  edited  the  Miscellaneous  Writings  of  Charles 
Eliot,  after  whom  his  son,  the  famous  Harvard  professor 
of  this  day,  was  named.  Charles  Eliot  Norton  was 
born  in  November  of  1827,  and  graduated  at  Harvard 
in  the  class  of  '46.  He  entered  a  Boston  counting- 
room,  and  three  years  later  went  to  India  as  supercargo 
of  a  ship,  and  made  a  leisurely  tour  and  studies  through 
the  country.  During  this  time  Mr.  Longfellow  wrote 
to  him,  under  date  of  February,  1850,  saying :  — 

"  I  have  been  thinking  how  very  odd  and  outlandish 
anything  written  on  the  banks  of  Charles  River  must 
sound  when  read  on  the  banks  of  the  Ganges,  and 
how  small  we  must  all  appear  to  you  who  are  personally 
acquainted  with  the  boundless  Krishna,  the  Valiant.  .  .  . 
And  now,  dear  Charles,  Namarasham  Namarasham !  and 
whatever  may  be  the  Hindoo  for  I  love  you  !  Bring  home 
the  two  great  epics,  —  the  Razanama  and  the  Mahabharata. 
Also  from  Persia  Zoroaster's  Zend  Avesta." 

Mr.  Norton  spent  some  three  years  abroad  at  this 
time  and  he  has  always  renewed  and  revived  his  Euro- 
pean impressions  and  associations  by  frequent  revisit- 
ings.  From  1864  to  1868  he  was  co-editor  with  Lowell 
of  the  '^  North  American  Review." 


288  BOSTON   DAYS 


As  will  be  well  remembered  it  is  Professor  Norton 
who  edited  the  Carlyle  and  Emerson  correspondence,  and 
also  the  early  letters  of  Carlyle.  This  service  he  again 
pei'formed  for  Lowell,  editing  his  letters  —  the  great 
mass  of  which  were  in  his  hands  —  with  the  most  deli- 
cate fidelity  to  the  sanctities  of  private  life  as  distin- 
guished from  its  literary  values.  In  1891  appeared 
Professor  Norton's  translation  —  in  prose  —  of  Dante, 
in  three  volumes,  devoted,  respectively,  to  the  ^'  Hell," 
"  Purgatory,"  and  "  Heaven."  These  were  followed  by 
"  The  New  Life  "  (Vita  Nuova). 
*  As  a  lecturer  on  Dante  Professor  Norton  is  in- 
comparable. There  is  perhaps  hardly  another  man  in  our 
country  who  stands  so  distinctively  and  inclusively  for 
culture  —  in  its  rarest  and  highest  form  —  as  does  Pro- 
fessor Norton.  Colonel  Higginson  declared  him  to  be  the 
most  cultured  man  in  America.  This  is  not  to  say  that  his 
scholarship  alone  is  not  at  least  equalled  by  many  other 
men ;  but  it  is  that  other  great  scholars  are  as  a  rule 
applying  their  accomplishments  and  resources  in  other 
directions  than  abstract  culture  alone  :  as  James  Russell 
Lowell,  who  was  an  author  and  diplomat  as  well  as  a 
man  of  wide  culture ;  President  Eliot,  who  is  at  the 
head  of  a  great  university ;  and  so  one  might  run  on  ; 
but  Professor  Norton  has  devoted  his  life  exclusively 
to  the  extension  of  the  choicest  quality  of  literary  and 
artistic  culture. 

In  his  chair  of  Fine  Arts  at  Harvard  Professor 
Norton  has  impressed  upon  successive  classes  of  stu- 
dents an  understanding  and  a  reverence  for  the  fine  arts 


THE    GOLDEN   AGE   OF    GENIUS  289 

and  for  poetry  and  the  higher  literature.  To  attend  his 
lectures  was  in  itself  considered  by  Harvard  students  as 
a  liberal  education.  No  professor  in  the  university  was 
more  beloved  and  honored.  His  distinction  of  manner, 
his  charm  and  graciousness,  and  his  sincere  and  un- 
affected interest  in  the  individual  welfare  and  progress 
of  the  students  won  their  entire  confidence  and  com- 
manded their  admiration. 

It  is  reassuring,  in  his  lectures,  to  hear  the  Professor 
place  poetry  as  the  most  important  expression  of  life. 
The  chief  end  of  literature,  he  believes,  is  to  acquire 
the  love  and  the  understanding  of  poetry.  His 
reason  for  this  statement,  which  may  seem,  at  first,  a 
little  extreme,  but  will  commend  itself  on  reflection,  — 
is  this :  That  it  is  poetry  that  cultivates  and  develops 
the  imagination,  and  that  it  is  imagination  which 
makes  life  worth  the  living.  The  hope  and  promise 
of  mankind,  he  said,  lie  within  its  inspiration.  Sweep- 
ing away  the  mass  of  minor  poets,  he  notes  the 
few  great  ones  who  are  worthy  extended  study.  Re- 
ferring to  the  charge  that  poetry  is  neglected  and  that 
the  desires  of  the  day  are  too  much  set  on  material 
things.  Professor  Norton  has  pointed  out  how  that  the 
exclusive  pursuit  of  the  material  can  result  only  in  the 
narrowing  of  mental  interests  and  resources,  and  thus 
character  loses  in  breadth  and  dignity. 

The  poet  is  determined  from  the  fact  that  with  him 
the  imagination  works  more  powerfully  than  with  other 
men.  He,  alone,  sees  human  nature  clearly  and  inter- 
prets it  to  itself. 

19 


290  BOSTON   DAYS 


A  little  note  from  Professor  Norton  to  Mr.  Whipple 
thus  runs : — 

Cambkidge,  April  27,  1880. 

Dear  Mr.  Whipple,  —  You  will  be  pleased  to  know- 
that  Wendell  Holmes  and  Judge  Lowell  were  chosen  into 
the  Club  on  Saturday. 

I  am  much  obliged  to  you  for  remembering  Mr.  Eaton's 
fine  sayings  concerning  what  he  learned  from  me ;  but 
they  give  me  a  conviction  that  he  must  be  morbidly  im- 
pressed with  the  sense  of  having  wasted  his  time  in  Ger- 
many ;  or  else  be  a  disciple  of  Senator  Matthews  with  a 
rooted  scorn  of  "  abroad." 

You  will  be  glad  to  learn  that  the  latest  news  from  Mrs. 
Lowell  is  encouraging.  She  seems  now  in  a  fair  way  for 
recovery. 

I  am  very  truly  yours, 

Charles  Eliot  Norton. 

Professor  Norton's  comparative  estimate  of  Homer, 
Shakspeare,  and  Dante  is  one  of  deep  interest.  He 
finds  Homer  depicting  the  human  race  in  its  early 
stages  when  its  experiences  were  simple  and  few,  while 
Shakspeare  portrays  complex  natures,  yet  both  Homer 
and  Shakspeare,  he  noted,  held  the  mirror  up  to  nature 
without  the  interference  of  their  own  personalities. 
But  Dante  towered  above  both,  —  Dante,  who  was  not 
^  only  a  poet  but  a  spiritual  teacher.  Professor  Norton 
considers  Dante  as  the  one  greatest  poet  of  humanity  in 
its  moral  aspects. 

Dr.  Parsons,  also  an  eminent  Dantean  scholar  and 
translator,  and  one  of  the  choice  circle  to  be  met  at  the 
Sunday  evenings  of  Mrs.  Whipple,  was  a  man  of  rare 


THE   GOLDEN   AGE   OF   GENIUS  291 

and  exquisite  gifts  and  called  by  Hawthorne  "  the  most 
imhuman  man  of  letters  in  America."  Whether  he  was 
quite  human  or  not,  it  was  a  circle  fit  though  few, 
who  knew  and  most  prized  Dr.  Parsons.  The  power  of 
impressing  one's  own  personality  upon  the  world  is  a 
unique  and  specific  gift  of  itself,  or,  rather,  it  is  the 
result  of  a  certain  definite  combination  of  qualities.  It 
is  not  invariably  talent,  or  even  genius,  which  is  not 
unallied  to  these  high  qualities.  It  is  perhaps  largely 
the  result  of  sympathy  and  of  subtle,  intuitive  recogni- 
tion of  the  needs  and  desires  of  others,  with  some  aid 
from  the  dramatic  gift.  On  a  lower  plane  this  power 
of  impressing  one's  personality  upon  the  world  becomes 
the  commercial  faculty. 

At  all  events,  it  was  this  quality  which  Dr.  Parsons 
lacked.  He  had  the  isolation  of  his  temperament.  He 
could  not  come  into  touch  with  general  life.  He  was 
not  facile.  A  poet  of  rarest  gifts;  a  student  whose 
rewards  were  rich  and  noble  in  the  direction  he  pur- 
sued; a  man  of  fine  and  exquisite  tastes,  of  delicate 
sensibilities,  —  was  Dr.  Parsons.  As  a  literary  man  he 
ranked  among  the  few  of  our  greatest  authors.  He 
found  his  peers  only  with  Lowell,  Longfellow,  and 
Hawthorne.  As  a  scholar  he  ranked  with  Professor 
Charles  Eliot  Norton.  His  translation  of  Dante  is 
one  with  genuine  claim  to  perpetuate  it  in  literature. 
His  poems,  comparatively  few  in  number,  hold  the 
sacred  fire.  On  his  altar  burned  the  living  coal.  To  one 
familiar  with  the  exquisite  quality  of  his  poetic  art,  it 
seems  incredible  that  he  had  so  little  of  what  men  call 


292  BOSTON   DAYS 


fame.  He  wrote  poetry  for  the  poets.  Yet  to  a  ma- 
jority of  the  intelligent  readers  of  the  day  his  name  is 
almost  unknown.  His  "Lines  on  a  Bust  of  Dante" 
and  "  Paradisa  Gloria  "  are  poems  to  hold  forever  their 
place  in  literature. 

"There  have  been  now  and  again,"  wrote  Richard 
Hovey,  the  author  of  that  haunting  elegy,"  Seaward,"  on 
Dr.  Parsons,  "  there  have  been  certain  poets  who  seem 
to  have  been  born  out  of  due  time.  They  have  not  been 
opposed  to  their  age  so  much  as  apart  from  it.  The 
Hamlets  of  verse,  for  them  the  time  has  been  out  of 
joint,  and  they  have  not  had  the  intensity  or  the  reso- 
lution to  set  it  right.  Thrown  back  upon  themselves 
by  an  environment  which  was  distasteful  to  them  but 
which  they  lacked  either  the  force  or  the  inclination  to 
overcome,  they  have  necessarily  had  little  to  say.  But 
on  that  very  account  they  have  frequently  given  more 
thought  to  the  purely  artistic  side  of  their  work  than 
more  copious  writers.  Such  men  were  Collins  and 
Gray,  and  afterwards  Landor ;  men  whom  we  admire 
more  for  the  classic  beauty  of  their  style  and  for  other 
technical  qualities  than  for  the  output  of  their  imagina- 
tion or  the  penetration  of  their  insight.  Of  this  class 
of  poets,  with  no  mean  rank  among  them,  was  Thomas 
William  Parsons." 

It  cannot  be  claimed  for  Dr.  Parsons  that  he  was  a 
great  man  in  that  sense  of  character  which  is  calculated 
to  leave  on  the  age  a  permanent  impress.  Essentially 
was  he  a  man  born  out  of  time  and  tune.  His  nature 
was  an  exotic  planted  by  some  fate  in  what  was  to  him 


THE   GOLDEN   AGE   OF    GENIUS  293 

an  unin^^ting  environment.  He  was  artistic,  but  not 
so  divinely  artistic  as  to  be  heroic.  He  had  not  the 
infinite  tenderness  for  humanity  that  so  signally  charac- 
terized Longfellow,  nor  the  broad  and  noble  philoso- 
phy of  Lowell.  Neither  had  he  the  perfect  trust  and 
spiritual  insight  of  Whittier;  yet  none  of  these  have 
written  a  "  Paradisa  Gloria." 

This  single  poem  stands  alone  and  unrivalled  in 
lyrical  perfection  in  all  American  literature,  as  does 
Tennyson's  '^  Break,  Break,  Break,"  in  English  poetry. 
What  stately,  splendid  beauty  lies  in  its  opening 
stanza ! — 

"  There  is  a  city,  builded  by  no  hand 

And  unapproachable  by  sea  or  shore, 
And  unassailable  by  any  band 

Of  storming  soldiery  forevermore." 

The  remaining  stanzas  are  :  — 

"  There  we  no  longer  shall  divide  our  time 
•By  acts  or  pleasures,  —  doing  petty  things 
Of  work  or  warfare,  merchandise  or  rhyme, 
But  we  shall  sit  beside  the  silver  springs 

"  That  flow  from  God's  own  footstool,  and  behold 
Sages  and  martyrs,  and  those  blessed  few 
Who  loved  us  once  and  were  beloved  of  old. 
To  dwell  with  them  and  walk  with  them  anew. 


"  In  alternations  of  sublime  repose  — 
Musical  motion  — the  perpetual  play 
Of  every  faculty  that  heaven  bestows, 

Through  the  bright,  busy,  and  eternal  day." 


294.  BOSTON   DAYS 


A  poet  must  always  be  taken  for  what  he  is  and  not 
asked  for  that  which  he  is  not.  It  would  be  idle  to 
find  fault  with  Dr.  Parsons  because  he  had  not  that 
universal  message  to  humanity  which  we  ask  of  our 
immortals.  His  was  a  very  rich  and  lovable  nature 
when  touched  aright.  He  was  out  of  harmony  with  all 
save  the  choicer  and  rarer  natures,  and  he  was  not  a 
philosopher  or  a  reformer  or  a  humanitarian,  but  an 
artist  who  loved  his  art,  and  who  loved  religion  through 
art.     He  was  a  devout  Anglican  Catholic. 

The  more  aesthetic  form  of  religion  in  the  rich  sym- 
bolism of  extreme  ritualistic  worship  appealed  to  him 
as  no  less  decorative  form  would  do.  His  religious  emo- 
tion was  a  poet's  ecstasy,  rapt,  intense,  and  not  the 
spiritual  perception  that  characterized  Lowell  and 
Whittier.  Any  trace  of  Puritanism  was  peculiarly 
distasteful  to  him.  His  was  the  tropical  nature  ;  and  he 
was,  to  all  intents  and  purposes,  an  Italian  born  in 
New  England.  He  was  the  born  translator  and  inter- 
preter of  Dante,  without  that  innate  lofty  nobleness  of 
spirit,  incommensurately  great,  of  the  immortal  Italian. 

The  secret  of  the  incongruity  between  lofty  and 
notable  work  and  personal  obscurity  lay  in  his  tempera- 
ment. He  was  not  in  touch  with  general  life.  He 
was  indifferent  to  fame,  indifferent  to  any  practical 
contact  with  the  literary  market.  A  social  recluse, 
beloved  by  his  intimate  friends,  appreciated  by  fastidious 
and  critical  tastes,  —  he  asked  no  more  of  life. 

Dr.  Parsons  was  much  better  known  in  Italy  than  in 
America.     In   Florence,  on  his  visiting  that  city  in 


THE   GOLDEN   AGE   OF   GENIUS  295 

1867,  he  was  honored  with  an  ovation,  crowned  with 
laurel,  and  presented  with  the  freedom  of  the  city. 
The  one  fellow-author  and  friend  who  could  best  have 
interpreted  Dr.  Parsons  to  the  world  was  Mr.  Whipple, 
in  whom  insight  became  divination,  and  recognition 
clairvoyance.  But  that  "  wand  of  magic  power "  in 
the  pen  of  Edwin  P.  Whipple  was  stilled  before  the 
death  of  Dr.  Parsons  and  the  interested  student  of  his 
unique  individuality  and  gifts  must  perhaps  look  to  his 
work  alone  to  grasp  the  qualities  of  the  man. 

Thomas  William  Parsons  was  born  in  Boston,  Aug. 
18,  1819,  in  the  same  year  with  Lowell,  Whipple, 
Curtis,  Prof.  Benjamin  Peirce,  Julia  Ward  Howe,  and 
others  who  make  that  year  indeed  a  memorable  date. 

He  graduated  at  Harvard  and  took  his  degree  at  the 
Medical  School,  but  curiously  became  a  dentist  which  was 
his  trade,  while  literature  was  his  profession  and  poetry 
his  passion.  At  the  age  of  seventeen  he  visited  Italy, 
and  doubtless  his  whole  nature  was  colored  and  stimulated 
by  that  experience  in  the  direction  of  his  Italian  studies. 
His  translation  of  Dante's  "  Inferno  "  was  published  in 
1867,  with  Dord's  illustrations.  In  that  year  he  again 
passed  some  time  in  Europe,  and  the  translations  from 
Dante  he  had  published  previous  to  this  time  insured 
him  the  warmest  reception  at  Florence.  He  was 
honored  with  a  public  reception,  crowned  with  laurel, 
and  presented  with  the  freedom  of  the  city.  A  f^te 
was  given  in  his  honor  and  he  was  drawn  in  a  chariot 
about  the  streets  by  the  enthusiastic  Florentines. 
While  in  Boston,  so  quiet  and  secluded  has  been  his 


296  BOSTON   DAYS 


life  that  half  the  fairly  intelligent,  if  not  the  cultivated 
population,  have  perhaps  hardly  heard  his  name. 

The  readers  of  the  "  Atlantic  Monthly  "  will  remember 
his  occasional  contributions.  His  best-known  poem  is 
the  "  Lines  on  a  Bust  of  Dante."  It  was  written  from 
a  statuette  brought  to  Mr.  Whipple  by  Charles  Sumner 
as  a  gift,  and  which  stands  now  in  the  library  of  Mrs. 
Whipple's  home.  This  poem  has  been  quoted  and 
referred  to  so  much  that,  as  Mrs.  Whipple  relates,  Dr. 
Parsons  was  fairly  impatient  and  irritable  over  it 
because  all  his  other  work  was  ignored  in  comparison. 
But  it  is  one  of  the  noblest  poems  in  the  English 
language.     One  stanza  runs  :  — 

"  FaitMul  if  tMs  wan  image  be, 

No  dream  his  life  was  ■ —  but  a  Light, 
Could  any  Beatrice  see 

A  lover  in  that  anchorite  ! 
To  that  cold  Ghibelline's  gloomy  sight 

Who  could  have  guessed  the  visions  came 
Of  Beauty,  veiled  with  heavenly  light, 

In  circles  of  eternal  flame." 

Dr.  Parsons  died  in  1892  at  his  home  by  the  sea  in 
Scituate.  His  death  was  a  tragic  one  but  whether  the 
result  of  accident  or  intention  has  never  been  absolutely 
known.  A  curious  atmosphere  of  gloom  invested  the 
family.  His  sister,  Mrs.  Lunt,  was  a  woman  of  unusual 
gifts  and  charm,  but  a  mental  malady  came  upon  her 
and  for  all  one  summer  she  was  carefully  watched  and 
guarded,  in  her  seaside  house  at  Scituate,  by  nurses 
and  friends.     Her  only  daughter,  Francesca,  Countess 


THE   GOLDEN   AGE   OF   GENIUS  297 

d'xiulby,  and  the  Count,  her  French  son-in-law,  were 
with  her.  Early  one  morning,  before  the  dawn,  the 
Count  and  Countess  were  both  awakened,  conscious 
of  some  influence  or  presence  so  depressing  that  they 
could  not  sleep  nor  remain  in  the  room.  Almost  with 
one  accord  they  sought  the  parlor,  and  kept  —  they 
knew  not  why  —  their  vigil.  Soon  after  daylight  it 
was  discovered  that  Mrs.  Lunt  had  eluded  the  vigilance 
of  the  night  nurse,  and  was  not  in  the  house.  Search 
far  and  wide  was  made.  A  milkman,  going  on  his 
early  rounds,  related  that  he  had  seen  her  crossing  the 
meadow,  and  that  she  had  stopped,  gazing  into  a  pool 
of  water.  At  last  after  anxious  and  agonizing  hours, 
her  body  was  found  in  the  well  close  to  the  house.  She 
had  been  dead  for  hours.  With  the  cunning  of  insanity 
she  had  climbed  down  a  deep  well  by  the  stones  and 
found  barely  water  enough  to  drown  herself.  The 
shock  of  the  death  of  her  brother.  Dr.  Parsons,  had 
been  one  too  severe  for  her  delicate  organization  and 
doubtless  precipitated  this  tragedy. 

Mrs.  Maria  S.  Porter,  in  a  beautiful  tribute  to  Mrs. 
Lunt,  thus  speaks  of  the  family  :  — 

"  Mrs.  Lunt  was  distinctively  a  lady  of  the  old  school, 
a  representative  Bostonian,  not  of  the  Boston  of  to-day, 
but  of  the  past.  She  was  in  close  sympathy  and  touch 
with  the  stars  in  our  literary  firmament,  that  remarkable 
coterie  of  men  and  women  who  have  made  the  fame  of 
Boston.  Longfellow,  Holmes,  Emerson,  Lowell,  Whip- 
ple, Peirce,  were  the  intimate  associates  of  her  beloved 
brother,  the  late  Thomas  William  Parsons,  a  poet  known 
to  scholars  and  to  all  lovers  of  poetry   throughout  the 


298  BOSTON   DAYS 


English-speaking  world.  Mrs.  Lunt  had  great  versatility 
and  a  felicitous  expression  of  her  thought,  both  in  prose 
and  verse. 

"Many  of  Mrs.  jLunt's  sonnets  are  very  fine,  and 
obtained  recognition  at  once  from  some  of  the  best  of 
our  poets.  A  few  of  them  may  be  found  in  the  well- 
known  collections  of  poetry,  notably  in  that  made  by 
Oscar  Fay  Adams,  called  '  Through  the  Year  with  the 
Poets ;  '  also  in  the  book  of  American  sonnets  selected 
by  Thomas  Wentworth  Higginson.  Some  years  ago 
I  sent  Dr.  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes  a  poem  of  Mrs. 
Lunt's  entitled  '  The  Days  that  Come  Back,'  of  which 
he  said : 

"  '  So  many  beautiful  lyrics  have  come  from  her  brilliant 
pen,  of  which  one  entitled  To  One  who  Knoweth  is 
sufficient  to  show  her  metric  skill  and  knowledge  of  verse, 
and  the  philosophic  feeling  displayed  in  the  beautiful 
thought  it  contains  is  of  masculine  strength.  Certainly 
Mrs.  Lunt  is  one,  if  not  the  foremost,  of  the  women  poets 
of  America.  .  .  .  Her  desire,  as  in  the  case  of  her 
brother  (the  late  Thomas  William  Parsons) ,  for  privacy, 
her  dislike  of  anything  like  notoriety,  has  done  much  to 
narrow  the  circle  of  her  influence  as  a  verse-writer.  Now 
that  she  has  passed  beyond  the  ken  of  this  world,  it  is  to 
be  hoped  that  those  who  have  her  work  intact  may, 
before  long,  give  a  volume  of  such  precious  lines  as  hers 
to  the  world.  You  have  been  one  of  the  few  who  were 
constantly  in  touch  with  her  inner  life,  and  therefore  so 
well  able  to  say  so  much  more  than  I  can  of  the  intel- 
lectual work  of  our  lamented  friend.'  " 


All  this  is  touched  upon  here  as  illustrative  of 
some  fateful  temperament  that  neither  the  poet  nor  his 
sister  understood   hovr  to  overcome.     There  have  al- 


THE   GOLDEN   AGE   OF   GENIUS  299 

ways  been  such  instances  of  disaster  and  wreck  and 
ruin  in  the  annals  of  literature  and  art.  Byron,  Poe, 
and  others  that  could  be  named  furnish  examples.  In 
this  more  spiritual  age  into  which  we  are  now  living, 
with  the  larger  knowledge  of  the  ways  and  means  of 
controlling  forces  and  remedying  defects  in  character, 
these  instances  will  grow  less.  The  knowledge  of  the 
law  of  vibration,  of  the  potent  and  all-determining 
power  involved  in  a  true  knowledge  of  concentration, 
will  exalt  all  the  conditions  of  life  and  re-create  charac- 
ter.    But  this  is  a  matter  of  modern  science. 

The  supreme  work  of  Dr.  Parsons,  as  has  already 
been  noted,  was  in  his  translations  from  Dante.  This 
work  extended  over  a  period  of  fifty-five  years.  In  his 
early  youth  he  visited  Italy  ;  he  walked  enchanted  with 
Dante  in  Florence  and  Ravenna,  and  as  a  youth  of 
twenty-three  he  was  rendering  in  English  portions  of  the 
^'  Divina  Commedia."  "  To  render  Dante  properly," 
he^  said,  "  requires  somewhat  of  Dante's  moods,  time 
and  toil;  fasting  and  solitude  are  not  amiss." 

Dr.  Parsons  had  the  same  temperamental  sym- 
pathy for  Dante  that  Edward  Fitzgerald  evinced  for 
Omar  Khdyy4m,  yet  was  he  not  alone  in  his  love  for 
the  Italian  poet.  There  existed  in  Cambridge  a 
Dante  society  of  twelve  members,  of  which  Mr.  Long- 
fellow, and  later  Mr.  Lowell,  was  the  president.  Dr. 
Parsons  and  Charles  Eliot  Norton  were  among  its 
illustrious  members. 

The  Dante  translations  of  Dr.  Parsons  are  fragment- 
ary, but  include  the  "  Hell "  complete,  the  "  Purgatorxo  " 


300  BOSTON   DAYS 


in   part,   and   beginnings   of  "The   Paradise."      How 
beautiful  are  these  lines  from  the  first  canto  !  — 

"  The  glory  of  him  who  moveth  all  he  made 
Shines  through  the  universe  with  piercing  splendor, 
In  one  part  more  and  elsewhere  less  displayed. 
Up  in  that  heaven  that  most  receives  his  light 
I  was,  and  saw  things  that  no  mortal  being 
Coming  down  thence  could  tell  or  knows  to  write, 
Because  an  intellect  approaching  so 
Toward  its  desire,  to  such  a  height  is  carried 
That  back  the  memory  hath  not  power  to  go. 
Truly,  whatever  treasure  I  could  gain 
For  my  remembrance  of  that  holy  kingdom 
Shall  make  material  now  for  this  my  strain." 

Among  the  lyrics  of  Dr.  Parsons  are  several  inscribed 
to  his  favorite  niece,  Francesca  Lunt,  now  the  Countess 
d'Aulby,  who  is  a  musical  artist  of  the  choicest  quality. 
One  of  these  closes  with  this  stanza  :  — 

"So  feel  I  when  Francesca  sings,  Francesca  sings ; 
My  thoughts  mount  upward ;  I  am  dead 
To  every  sense  of  vulgar  things, 

And  on  celestial  highways  tread, 
With  prophets  of  the  olden  time  — 
Those  minstrel  beings,  the  men  sublime  — 
The  men  sublime." 

Many  of  his  poems,  like  that  of  the  Paradiso  stanzas, 
are  inspired  by  lines  from  Dante. 

The  only  true  estimate  of  Dr.  Parsons  —  of  his  higher 
self,  the  immortal  self —  is  gained  in  studying  his  work. 
Outwardly  his  life  had  the  uneventfulness  of  the  scholar 
and  the  recluse.  He  was  a  man  of  the  most  brilliant 
gifts,  of  exceptionally  lovely  and  tender  qualities  within 


THE   GOLDEN   AGE   OF    GENIUS  301 

his  own  quiet  and  select  circle,  and  he  was  deeply 
beloved  as  the  friend  and  companion  in  high  thought 
and  poetic  art  by  such  men  as  Longfellow,  Lowell, 
Whipple,  and  Charles  Eliot  Norton. 

"  His  feet  are  in  thy  courts,  0  Lord  ;  his  ways 

Are  in  the  city  of  the  living  God. 
Beside  the  eternal  sources  of  the  days 

He  dwells,  his  thoughts  with  tireless  lightning  shod ; 
His  hours  are  exaltations  and  desires. 

The  soul  itself  its  only  period , 
And  life  unmeasured  save  as  it  aspires. 

One  sunset  hour  in  the  library  of  Dr.  Holmes  was  in- 
separably associated  with  the  memory  of  Dr.  Parsons. 
The  Autocrat  had  just  returned  from  a  call  on  his 
friend  and  brother  poet  who  was  ill,  and  to  whom  he 
had  carried  flowers,  the  narcissus,  "  the  poet's  flower," 
as  he  said,  and  the  little  talk  drifted  to  poets  and 
poetry.  He  spoke  particularly  of  Dr.  Parsons  as  a 
poet  in  whose  handling  language  became  exquisite  art. 
Words,  *Hhe  medium  vulgarized  by  everybody's  hand- 
ling," made  the  author's  art  a  more  difficult  one,  he 
said,  than  that  of  the  artist  on  canvas,  or  clay,  or  in 
music.  It  is  as  if  one  who  would  carve  in  wood  were 
obliged  to  go  out  and  gather  rails  and  fence  boards  for 
his  material. 

The  question  was  asked  why  Dr.  Parsons  had  not 
fame  commensurate  with  his  rare  genius,  and  the  Auto- 
crat replied  that  he  had  the  most  appreciative  recog- 
nition of  his  genius  among  scholars  and  the  choice  few, 
but   that  he   had  written   too   little  to   have   become 


302  BOSTON    DAYS 


widely  known  in  the  popular  sense.  Dr.  Holmes  also 
instanced  that  a  great  part  of  his  literary  work  is  in 
translations,  and  this,  while  perhaps  it  should,  yet  does 
not  always  gain  for  the  writer  the  fame  that  it  should 
command.  In  the  intense  devotion  of  Dr.  Parsons  to 
Dante ;  in  the  absorbing  study  he  has  given  to  him  ;  the 
sympathetic  interpretation  he  has  produced  of  the  great- 
est of  Italian  poets,  —  one  of  the  three  world  poets,  as 
Prof.  Wm.  T.  Harris  well  classifies  Dante,  —  to  these 
Dr.  Holmes  attributed  the  choice  felicity  of  style,  the 
exquisite  literary  art  that  characterized  Dr.  Parsons,  — 
an  art  on  which  the  Autocrat  seemed  to  love  to  linger. 
The  name  of  Mrs.  Louise  Chandler  Moulton  is  always 
one  to  conjure  with;  and  her  cosmopolitan  life  united 
with  her  sympathetic  and  winning  personality,  has  al- 
ways given  her  a  very  wide  range  of  friends  in  Europe 
as  well  as  in  our  own  country,  and  few  are  the  weeks  in 
which  some  visiting  celebrity  of  interest  is  not  met  at 
her  receptions.  Here  will  be  found  the  most  inclusive 
and  varied  assembly  in  Boston.  There  will  be  authors 
and  artists,  the  great  ecclesiastic  and  the  struggling 
worker  in  various  lines ;  the  noted  Harvard  professor, 
the  great  lecturer,  the  reigning  beauty  of  the  hour,  the 
distinguished  actor  or  opera  singer,  the  most  fashionable 
of  portrait  painters,  the  noblest  architect,  the  profound 
philosophical  writer,  or  the  unknown  undergraduate. 
One  will  meet  at  Mrs.  Moulton's  charming  weekly  recep- 
tions the  notable  people  in  every  art  or  calling,  and  also 
those  whose  claim  to  consideration  may  not  be  less  genu- 
ine because  not  generally  recognized.     Very  interesting 


THE   GOLDEN   AGE   OF   GENIUS  303 

in  their  souvenirs  are  Mrs.  Moulton's  drawing-rooms ; 
Vedder  and  Greenough,  and  Robert  Barrett  Browning 
are  represented  among  artists,  —  all  with  autograph  in- 
scriptions ;  there  is  a  choice  copy  of  Poe's  "  Raven " 
translated  into  French  by  Stephen  Mallarm^,  one  of  the 
intimate  friends  of  Mrs.  Moulton's  Parisian  life,  and  it 
is  illustrated  by  Manet,  —  the  copy  being  the  combined 
gift  of  painter  and  poet ;  there  are  oil  paintings  from 
celebrated  artists  ;  a  water-color  from  Rollin  Tilton ;  a 
vigorous  black-and-white  sketch  of  a  famous  group  of 
trees  at  Bordighera  by  Charles  Caryl  Coleman,  presented 
by  him;  a  number  of  excellent  sketches  by  Winthrop 
Pierce,  of  Boston,  one  of  the  most  poetic  of  landscapists, 
illustrating  poems  of  Mrs.  Moulton's,  among  which  are 
"  Come  Back,  Dear  Days ; "  and  one  of  these  sketches 
showing  a  brilliant  sunrise,  illustrates  the  line :  '^  The 
morning  skies  were  all  aflame,"  from  one  of  her  poems. 
Another  still  of  these  lovely  sketches  of  Mr.  Pierce's 
has  a  group  of  shadow  faces,  with  the  line,  "  I  see  your 
gentle  ghosts  arise." 

Many  are  the  rare  books  in  autograph  copies  given  to 
Mrs.  Moulton  by  her  friends  abroad,  —  copies  presented 
by  Lord  Houghton,  George  Eliot,  Tennyson,  Jean  Inge- 
low,  Christina  Rossetti,  Oswald  Crawford,  George  Mere- 
dith, Robert  Louis  Stevenson,  O'Shaughnessy,  and  many 
others.  Robert  Browning  wrote  to  her  when  her  col- 
lection of  poems  under  the  title  of  "  Swallow  Flights," 
appeared :  — 

"  I  close  the  book  only  when  needs  I  must  —  at  page 
the  last,  with  music  in  my  ears  and  flowers  before  my 


304  BOSTON    DAYS 


eyes,  not  without  thoughts  across  the  brain.  Pray  con- 
tinue your  '  Flights,'  and  be  assured  of  the  sympathetic 
observance  of  Yours, 

'^  Robert  Browning." 

Mrs.  Moulton's  home  on  Rutland  Square  is  a  very 
literary  and  social  Mecca  on  her  "  Fridays."  Pleasant 
social  interchange  speeds  the  hours,  and  the  sympathetic 
charm  of  the  hostess  holds  its  spell  for  each  and  all. 

Louise  Chandler  Moulton,  born  in  Pomfret,  Conn., 
came  to  Boston  as  a  bride  in  her  earliest  youth.  At 
the  age  of  fifteen  she  had  begun  to  see  in  print 
what,  almost  from  childhood,  she  had  written.  At 
eighteen  a  volume  of  stories  from  her  pen,  entitled 
"  This,  That,  and  the  Other,"  was  published  by  a  Boston 
house.  Any  determinate  choice  of  literary  life  had  not 
presented  itself  to  her.  She  wrote  as  the  flowers  bud 
and  bloom,  as  the  bird  sings,  because  it  was  the  law  of 
her  life  to  write.  Each  individual  life,  like  the  growth 
of  the  plant-world,  has  within  itself  its  own  law  of 
development  to  which  it  must  conform,  and  to  the  bril- 
liant and  imaginative  young  girl  her  songs  and  stories 
were  a  blossoming  expression  rather  than  a  conscious 
achievement.  In  her  school  life  in  Mrs.  Willard's  semi- 
nary at  Troy  she  appears,  as  Mrs.  Harriet  Spofford  has 
said,  "  to  have  combined  studying  and  writing  and  love- 
making  to  a  rather  remarkable  degree,  as  in  six  weeks 
after  leaving  school  she  became  the  wife  of  Mr.  William 
Moulton,  the  editor  and  publisher  of  a  weekly  journal 
in  Boston."  Years  of  exhilarating  life  and  literary 
achievement  followed.     The  winning  hostess,  the  ac- 


THE   GOLDEN   AGE   OF   GENIUS  305 

knowledged  author  of  two  successful  novels,  her  name 
recognized  and  praised,  she  was  fairly  launched  into  that 
inspirational  atmosphere  to  which  she  was  so  respon- 
sive. She  contributed  to  "Harper's,"  the  "Atlantic," 
"  Galaxy,"  and  "  Scribner's,"  and  not  the  least  of  her 
work  has  been  that  done  for  children,  for  whom  she  had 
a  peculiar  gift  in  writing. 

It  was  in  1876  that  Mrs.  Moulton  first  went  abroad, 
taking  with  her  letters  of  introduction  to  a  brilliant 
English  circle  which  has  ever  since  welcomed  her 
annual  visits.  Her  initial  introduction  to  the  London 
literati  was  at  a  breakfast  given  in  her  honor  by  Lord 
Houghton,  at  which  Robert  Browning,  Swinburne, 
George  Eliot,  Kingslake,  Gustave  Dor^,  Jean  Ingelow, 
Thomas  Hardy,  and  other  notabilities,  were  guests. 
Soon  after,  her  first  volume  of  poems,  "Swallow 
Flights,"  was  published  in  both  London  and  Boston, 
and  flashed  into  instant  fame.  This  has  been  followed 
by  two  exquisite  collections  called  "  In  the  Garden  of 
Dreams"  and  "At  the  Wind's  Will"  with  several 
volumes  of  romance  and  travel. 

In  all  Mrs.  Moul ton's  work  one  finds  that  subtle, 
elusive  sense  of  spiritual  suggestion  as  if  the  poet  were 
living  between  the  two  worlds  of  the  seen  and  the 
unseen,  and  bringing,  half  unconsciously,  strange,  swift 
perceptions  from  the  unknown.  Yet  with  this  spiritual 
outlook  there  is  the  human  love  and  longing. 

Coulson  Kernahan,  the  well-known  English  critic, 
says  of  Mrs.  Moulton :  "  Hers  is  the  sweetest  woman 
voice  which  has  come  to  us  across  the  wide  Atlantic." 

20 


306  BOSTON   DAYS 


Mrs.  Moulton  holds,  indeed,  a  very  unique  and  charming- 
place  in  the  twofold  world  of  letters  and  of  society. 
How  a  woman  of  letters  can  find  so  much  leisure  for 
society,  or  how  a  woman  of  society  can  achieve  such 
pre-eminent  distinction  in  literary  art,  is  always  an 
interesting  study.  Perhaps  the  secret  lies  in  a  very 
exceptional  personality,  one  born  to  dominate  and 
which  yet  conquers  unconsciously,  if  it  may  be  so  ex- 
pressed, by  its  irresistible  charm ;  that  need  ask  no  aid 
from  the  strength,  underlying  it.  For  when  the  gods 
bestow  their  supreme  gift  —  charm  —  the  recipient  need 
ask  nothing  more  of  fortune ;  it  is  all  good  gifts  in  one. 
To  a  remarkable  degree  Mrs.  Moulton  has  this  gift. 

Mrs.  Harriet  Prescott  Spofford  is  often  to  be  found 
in  the  home  of  Mrs.  Moulton,  and  while  Boston  has  not 
been  able  to  allure  her  to  leave  her  romantic  home  in 
old  Newburyport  to  dwell  within  view  of  the  Golden 
Dome,  she  is  still  a  frequent  and  charming  figure  in  the 
Boston  days.  Among  the  first  contributors  to  the 
^'  Atlantic  "  Mrs.  Spoffbrd  early  won  national  recogni- 
tion as  a  poet  and  romancist,  —  a  fame  that  widens  with 
time. 

Louisa  Alcott  was  one  of  the  familiar  spirits  at  the 
Whipples,  where  she  was  often  to  be  found  on  their 
famous  Sunday  evenings.  The  demands  of  household 
life  in  Concord  conflicted  with  that  exclusive  devotion 
required  by  the  muse  of  creative  literature,  and  she 
would  fly  to  her  "Gamp's  Garret,"  as  before  noted 
in  these  pages,  whose  precise  locality  was  concealed 
as  far  as  possible  in  view  of  the  endless  invasions  that 


THE   GOLDEN  AGE   OF   GENIUS  307 

a  more  authoritative  knowledge  of  its  whereabouts 
would  inevitably  insure.  Mrs.  Stowe,  who  was  a  fre- 
quent guest  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Fields,  also  came  and 
went,  and  Colonel  Higginson  related  this  amusing 
incident  of  a  dinner  given  by  the  Atlantic  Club  to 
Mrs.  Stowe  just  before  her  first  departure  for  Europe. 
It  was  the  only  dinner  to  which  ladies  were  invited, 
and  Mrs.  Stowe  accepted,  relates  Colonel  Higginson,  on 
condition  that  no  wine  should  be  offered.  It  seems, 
however,  that  only  two  ladies  were  present ;  the  guest  of 
honor,  Mrs.  Stowe,  and  Mrs.  Harriet  Prescott  Spofibrd, 
then  Miss  Prescott.  The  ladies  had  been  left  alone 
together  a  short  time,  and  on  Colonel  Higginson's 
inquiry  of  Miss  Spofford  as  to  what  she  and  the  author 
of  "  Uncle  Tom  "  had  talked  of  for  the  three-quarters 
of  an  hour,  she  replied :  "  Nothing,  except  that  she 
asked  me  w^hat  o'clock  it  was,  and  I  told  her  I  did  n't 
know." 

Ernst  Perabo,  the  great  artist  and  musical  composer, 
was  another  of  the  most  prized  friends  of  Mrs.  Whipple's 
choice  circle. 

"  To  hear  Mr.  Perabo  play."  This  has  been  the  half- 
mystic,  half-reverent  phrase  now  and  then  passed  around 
among  the  choicest  lovers  of  art  in  Boston,  always 
uttered  with  the  feeling:  "Let  us  be  silent,  that  we 
may  hear  the  whisper  of  the  gods."  For  Ernst  Perabo 
is  not  only  a  great  artist ;  he  is  a  great  man.  He  has 
the  heroic  character,  —  a  nature  so  generous,  so  noble, 
so  exalted,  and  withal  so  tender  and  infinitely  sympa- 
thetic.   He  has  the  literary  appreciations  and  affiliations 


308  BOSTON   DAYS 


of  a  man  of  letters  —  a  man  to  whom  literature  was  his 
only  specialty.  He  has  the  genius  for  friendship  and 
those  who  have  enjoyed  the  rare  quality  of  the  personal 
presence  and  companionship  of  Mr.  Perabo  feel  that  life  is 
forever  enriched  thereby.  Abroad  Mr.  Perabo  is  known 
as  a  great  pianist  and  as  the  greatest  living  interpreter 
of  Beethoven;  but  in  Boston,  his  chosen  home,  he  is 
not  only  recognized  as  the  celebrated  musical  artist,  but 
as  friend,  critic,  counsellor,  and  inspirer. 

Nature  was  prodigal  in  her  gifts  to  him,  —  his  rare 
beauty  and  distinction  of  presence,  his  gentle  dignity, 
his  winning  sweetness  of  manner,  and  exquisite  courtesy, 
combined,  too,  with  the  overflow  of  immortal  energies 
and  the  impressiveness  of  great  qualities  of  mind  and 
heart. 

To  hear  Mr.  Perabo  interpret  Beethoven,  Schubert, 
Bach,  is  a  joy  for  a  lifetime.  His  marvellous  technique, 
his  refinement  of  expression,  the  depth  of  significance 
whose  inner  meaning  his  rendering  translates,  —  the 
singular  exaltation  of  the  entire  atmosphere,  —  it  is  all 
beyond  the  power  of  words  to  describe.  Mr.  Perabo 
is  the  artist  who  keeps  alive  the  coal  upon  the  altar,  — 
the  divine  flame  of  ideal  purpose.  "In  music,"  he 
says,  "  Bach  is  my  ideal  —  the  most  adorable  spirit,  and 
one  who  was  worthy  to  set  the  finest  passages  of  the 
Bible  to  music.  Beethoven  is  very  great  and  beau- 
tiful, soul-stirring,  and  satisfactory,  but  less  distant, 
more  afifectionate ;  and  of  all  the  most  winning  and 
lovable,  yet  strong  and  honest,  with  infinite  resources 
of  richness,  purity,  and  heavenly  joy  is  Franz  Schubert." 


THE   GOLDEN   AGE   OF   GENIUS  309 

Ideally,  a  great  artist  should  also  be  a  great  man,  a 
noble  character.  This  ideal  is  signally  fulfilled  in  Ernst 
Perabo. 

It  was  somewhere  in  1860  that  Lowell  wrote  to 
Hawthorne  a  letter  introducing  Mr.  Howells,  and  here 
is  the  picture  he  drew,  forty  years  ago,  of  the  well- 
known  novelist :  — 

"  He  wants  to  look  at  you,"  wrote  Lowell,  "  which  will 
do  you  no  harm,  and  do  him  a  great  deal  of  good.  His 
name  is  Howells,  and  he  is  fine  young  fellow,  and  has 
written  several  poems  in  the  '  Atlantic,'  which  of  course 
you  have  never  read  because  you  don't  do  such  things 
yourself  and  are  old  enough  to  know  better." 

Mr.  Howells,  then  a  young  poet  of  twenty-three, 
had  already  given  hostages  to  fortune  in  the  guise  of 
two  or  three  poems  contributed  to  the  "  Atlantic  "  and 
he  came  as  a  passionate  pilgrim  to  the  modern  Athens. 

At  this  time  he  was  yet  standing,  however  uncon- 
sciously, on  the  threshold  of  his  kingdom;  but  the 
literary  tribunal  that  had  already  pledged  him  recog- 
nition of  his  power  and  their  convictions  that  he  had  a 
future,  could  yet  have  little  dreamed  of  that  latent 
power  in  the  young  man  which  was  destined  later  to 
enter  into  American  literature  as  a  transforming  and 
almost  as  a  revolutionary  force. 

Still  —  such  is  the  power  of  the  unconscious  in  life 
to  assume  rhythmic  and  fitting  form  —  this  new  era  of 
literary  activity,  undreamed  of  by  the  actors,  was  ap- 
propriately ushered  in. 


310  BOSTON   DAYS 


Mr.  Lowell  gave  a  dinner  in  honor  of  the  young 
poet,  with  Dr.  Holmes  and  James  T.  Fields  as  the 
only  other  guests,  and  in  the  postprandial  conversation 
the  host  remarked :  ^^  This  is  the  laying  on  of  hands ; 
it  is  our  literary  apostolic  succession." 

More  deeply  true  than  Mr.  Lowell  could  have 
dreamed  were  his  words.  They  were  deeply  prophetic, 
and  that  pictorial  hour  is  enshrined  in  literary  history. 

"  Out  of  the  quiet  ways 
Into  the  world's  broad  track," 

had  the  young  poet  wandered :  out  from  a  Western 
country  home  of  refined  sweetness  and  simplicity ;  a 
home  of  high  thinking  and  plain  living  ;  a  home  fur- 
nished with  ideals  rather  than  with  bric-k-brac  and 
virtu,  —  from  this,  led  by  the  unconscious  illumination 
of  his  genius,  he  had  come  to  test  his  powers  in  the 
light  of  the  public  square. 

The  prince  and  potentate  are  not  more  regally  born 
than  the  children  of  some  of  the  families  settled  in  the 
Middle  West.  Especially  was  the  ^^  Western  Reserve  " 
of  Ohio  a  locality  of  the  gently  bred  and  refined  people. 
It  was  here  that  Nathan  Cook  Meeker,  afterward 
associated  with  Horace  Greeley  on  the  editorial  stafi*  of 
the  ^^  New  York  Tribune,"  and  who  was  the  founder  of 
Greeley,  Colorado,  lived  in  the  early  years  of  his  married 
life ;  and  here  was  born  his  son,  Ralph  Meeker,  now 
an  eminent  journalist  in  New  York  and  the  author  of 
some  of  the  most  charming  magazine  papers,  whose  poetic 
touch  lays  upon  the  reader  the  spell  of  enchantment. 


Winifred  Howells 


THE   GOLDEN   AGE   OF   GENIUS  311 

In  this  "  Western  Reserve "  Mr.  Howells  was  born, 
into  an  atmosphere  of  high  ideals,  and  the  story  of  his 
life  reminds  one  of  Emerson's  words :  ^'  Give  a  youth 
manners  and  accomplishments,  and  he  need  not  take 
the  trouble  to  earn  palaces ;  they  will  open  and  entreat 
him  to  enter." 

Mr.  Howells  had  these  gifts  and  accomplishments,  and 
it  is  perhaps  not  too  much  to  say  that  his  temperament 
has  been  his  fortune.  His  poise,  his  sweetness  of  spirit, 
his  gentle  and  courteous  dignity,  his  fastidious  delicacy, 
have  inevitably  opened  to  him  the  best  that  life  contains. 
It  is  a  curious  little  fact  that  at  the  early  age  of  twenty- 
nine  Mr.  Howells  had  entered  into  the  noblest  and 
greatest  companionships  that  this  world  can  offer. 

As  a  youth  he  had  started  out  on  that  Wanderjahre 
whose  story  he  so  exquisitely  tells  in  his  ^^New 
England  Pilgrimage."  He  was  first  received  and  then 
beloved.  After  that  came  his  first  residence  abroad. 
In  Paris  he  met  a  girl  art  student.  Miss  Eleanor 
Mead,  a  sister  of  the  distinguished  sculptor,  Larkin  G. 
Mead,  and  wooed  and  won  her  away  and  carried  her 
as  a  fair  bride  to  an  old  ducal  palace  in  Venice  where 
their  first  wedded  life  was  passed.  Here  was  born 
their  eldest  child,  Winifred,  —  the  child  of  poetry  and 
dreams,  whose  brief  and  beautiful  life  has  left  its  sweet 
records  in  the  poems  written  by  her  girlish  hand.  A 
beautiful  picture  of  this  poetic  and  lovely  girl  painted 
by  Helen  M.  Knowlton,  of  Boston,  is  in  the  library  of 
their  home,  —  an  ideal  face  against  a  golden  back- 
ground.    Miss  Knowlton  has  the  genius  of  color,  and 


312  BOSTON   DAYS 


this  work  is  one  of  the  most  interesting  among  all  her 
paintings. 

When,  after  the  first  period  of  Mr.  Howells'  residence 
abroad  he  returned  at  the  age  of  twenty-nine,  taking 
up  his  residence  in  Cambridge,  he  was  welcomed  into 
the  close  companionship  of  Longfellow,  Lowell,  Charles 
Eliot  Norton,  and  Henry  James,  pere.  To  enter 
the  mere  conventional  and  fashionable  society  is  a 
matter  of  external  accident ;  but  spiritual  fitness  alone 
could  enter  within  this  circle  of  choice  spirits.  Mr. 
Longfellow  was  then  translating  Dante,  and  one  evening 
a  week  this  little  group  met  at  his  home  for  an  evening 
of  listening  to  the  work,  with  comments  on  its  progress 
which  was  discussed  over  an  informal  supper. 

Li  later  years  Mr.  Howells,  with  his  family,  returned 
to  Boston^  and  lived  variously  for  some  years  in 
Belmont  —  a  beautiful  town  six  miles  out,  where  they 
had  a  charming  villa  on  a  pine  hill  —  and  on  Beacon 
Street,  only  one  or  two  doors  from  the  house  of  Dr. 
Holmes.  During  their  latest  sojourn  in  Boston,  for 
a  winter  only,  they  had  an  apartment  on  Common- 
wealth Avenue,  where  they  looked  out  upon  that 
magnificent  thoroughfare  with  its  double  boulevard  and 
esplanade  of  trees  and  statues.  From  their  drawing- 
room  windows  they  could  catch  an  enchanting  view  of 
the  sunset  over  the  blue  line  of  the  Brookline  Hills 
far  away  over  the  park,  with  the  romantic  statue  of 
Leif  Ericson  —  the  work  of  Anne  Whitney  —  silhou- 
etted against  the  western  sky.  Nothing  more  simple 
and  sweet  than  the  home  life  of  the  Howells  family 


THE   GOLDEN   AGE   OF   GENIUS  313 

can  be  imagined.  It  is  full  of  charm  and  gayety, 
and  if,  at  an  informal  tea  on  Sunday  evening,  a  guest 
or  two  may  drop  in,  and  some  glancing  allusion  occurs 
to  poem  or  passage  which  perhaps  at  the  moment  no 
one  can  place,  the  book  is  brought  in,  the  elusive  phrase 
captured,  and  all  details  of  outward  living  are  held 
flexible  and  plastic  to  this  ideal  and  responsive  spirit. 
To  lose  Mr.  Howells  from  Boston  was  to  lose  one  of 
the  most  ideal  home  centres  of  the  present  literary  life. 

Interesting  souvenirs  were  scattered  through  the 
rooms.  In  one  there  was  an  original  water-color  by 
Fortuny  presented  to  Mr.  Howells,  with  a  special  little 
history  of  its  own ;  a  picture  by  Rossetti,  and  one  by 
Alma-Tadema,  with  "  To  My  Dear  Howells "  in  the 
artist's  writing  in  the  corner,  and  many  other  bits  of 
artistic  value  and  association.  In  an  adjoining  room 
some  old  pictures  from  Florence  were  displayed,  and 
out  of  the  larger  room  was  a  delightful  little  alcove 
furnished  with  a  sofa  and  a  writing-desk. 

At  this  time  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Howells  had  returned 
to  Boston  from  New  York  to  be  near  their  only  sou, 
John  Howells,  who  graduated  from  Harvard  that  year, 
and  went  later  to  Paris  to  study  art  and  architecture. 
The  family  now  includes  only  this  son  and  a  daughter, 
Mildred,  so  pleasantly  known  to  the  reading  world  as 
the  "  Little  Girl  among  the  Old  Masters,"  in  that 
most  unique  of  art  books  bearing  this  title.  The  "  little 
girl "  is  a  tall,  slender  maiden  now,  and  while  she  is 
called  a  beauty  and  a  belle,  she  is  more,  —  a  brilliant 
girl  intellectually,  with  cultivated  artistic  and  literary 


314  BOSTON   DAYS 


tastes,  and  with  much  of  that  atmosphere  of  poetic 
enchantment  about  her.  Mrs.  Howells  is  always  in 
delicate  health,  but  she  is  so  spirituelle,  so  captivating, 
so  full  of  charm,  that  one  forgets  to  inquire  how  she  is 
feeling.  Was  it  Hannah  More's  physician  who  was  so 
beguiled  by  her  conversation  during  one  of  his  pro- 
fessional calls  that  he  forgot  to  inquire  for  the  health 
of  his  patient.  Mrs.  Howells  goes  out  very  little,  but 
is  usually  able  to  see  her  friends  who  come  in,  and  an 
hour  with  her  is  one  of  the  utmost  enchantment. 
She  has  tasted  the  fine  flavors  of  art  and  literature  and 
society,  and  is  the  truly  cultivated  woman,  for  cultiva- 
tion and  mere  acquirement  are  two  very  different  things. 
Mrs.  Howells  has  divination,  esprit,  and  that  nameless 
sympathy  for  which  we  have  no  adequate  term,  and 
which  the  Italians  call  simpatica. 

Mr.  Howells  has  that  very  rare  gift  —  and  one  seldom 
defined  —  of  taking  impressions.  "'  We  will  go  together 
to  an  entertainment,"  once  said  Mrs.  Howells  laugh- 
ingly, "and  I  will  talk  it  over  when  we  get  home 
and  then  forget  all  about  it;  but  twenty  years  later 
Mr.  Howells,  who  has  not  even  spoken  of  the  occasion, 
will  write  it  all  out  with  perfect  accuracy  of  detail  and 
of  complete  presentation." 

To  be  able  to  take  an  impression  is  of  itself  a  supreme 
gift.  More  than  that,  it  is  the  very  rarest  of  gifts.  It 
is  produced  by  an  exquisite  balance  of  imaginative 
perception,  of  sensitiveness,  of  delicacy,  of  poise.  The 
mind  of  Mr.  Howells  is  like  a  sensitive  plate,  or  like  a 
mirror  on  which  the  reflection  falls  and  is  retained. 


THE   GOLDEN   AGE   OF   GENIUS  315 

Few  of  the  great  men  have  been  more  fortunate 
in  their  domestic  life  than  has  Mr.  Howells.  If  he 
impresses  and  enchains,  what  shall  one  say  of  Mrs. 
Howells,  the  most  responsive,  the  most  sympathetic, 
the  most  spontaneous  of  women  ?  She  is  a  veritable  en- 
chantress. She  has  read  everything,  seen  everything, 
taken  in  the  most  subtle  significance  of  the  latest  play, 
the  new  novel,  the  new  movement  in  art,  literature, 
what  you  will.  She  is  many-faceted,  and  sparkles  at 
every  turn.  She  is  the  artist  in  temperament,  as  well 
as  in  taste  and  study. 

In  the  early  eighties,  Mr.  Howells  began  reproducing 
certain  salient  phases  of  Boston  life  dramatized  in  his 
novel,  "  The  Rise  of  Silas  Lapham,"  and  in  others.  Dur- 
ing a  part  of  this  time  he  was  also  the  editor  of  the 
''  Atlantic,"  in  which  office  he  was  succeeded  by  Mr. 
Aldrich. 

Novel-writing,  Mr.  Howells  believes,  should  be  a 
work  of  later  life  in  order  that  the  work  may  have  any 
value.  A  youug  person  reproduces  his  reading,  not  his 
life.  "  It  is  easy  to  do  the  fanciful.  It  is  difficult  to 
get  the  reality,"  he  says.  Of  course,  there  are  those  who 
believe  in  imagination  as  truer  than  fact  and  who  say 
that  reality  lies  in  the  ideal,  and  not  in  the  actual 
occurrence. 

Unquestionably  Mr.  Howells  now  stands  as  the  lead- 
ing man  in  American  literature ;  as  our  first  and  most 
representative  man  of  letters.  This  is  not  to  say  that 
his  specific  work  as  novelist  and  poet  transcends  the  poems 
and  novels  of  other  authors,  but  that,  since  the  pass- 


316  BOSTON   DAYS 


ing  of  Longfellow,  Holmes,  and  Lowell,  he  is  the  most 
conspicuous  figure.  He  stands  for  much.  He  unites 
two  things  that  are  not  seldom  regarded  as  incompat- 
ible, —  fastidious  culture  and  the  deepest  sympathy  for 
humanity.  Lowell's  love  for  humanity  was  largely 
in  the  abstract,  in  high  poetic  moods.  He  loved  the 
Southern  slaves  as  an  idea  when  he  might  not,  perhaps, 
be  over-gracious  to  the  Philistine  encountered  in  a  street 
car.  Longfellow  was  overflowing  with  love  and  sweet- 
ness, but  it  had  not  developed  into  the  thoughtful 
philosophy  for  the  bettering  of  humanity  as  has  that 
same  tenderness  of  nature  in  Mr.  Howells.  In  short, 
Mr.  Howells  is  not  only  a  great  writer,  but  a  great  man. 
"  Howells  is  the  only  one  of  us  who  has  been  the  favor- 
ite of  Fortune  uniformly,"  remarked  a  literary  friend,  but 
it  may  be  a  question  as  to  whether  Fortune  is  arbitrary 
in  her  favors. 

"  Deep  in  the  man  sits  fast  his  fate, 
To  mould  his  fortune  rich  or  great," 

says  Emerson.  Mr.  Howells  is  a  great  man,  for  he  not 
only  writes,  but  lives;  and  his  charm  of  manner,  his 
genial  humor,  his  sincere  and  exquisite  courtesy  and 
delicate  tact  make  him  the  most  interesting  of  conver- 
sationalists and  delightful  of  friends. 

He  talks  freely  when  asked  of  his  own  work  and 
literary  aims  and  beliefs.  His  range  of  selection  in  the 
series  of  vivid  and  almost  photographic  presentations  of 
certain  marked  phases  of  society  is  determined  by  the 
special  idea  to  be  illustrated  by  means  of  this  grouping. 
As  a  novelist  he  may  be  said  to  be  the  prophet  of  the 


THE   GOLDEN   AGE   OF   GENIUS  317 

present ;  he  is  intensely  modern ;  he  is  an  earnest 
student  of  conditions  and  their  tendencies ;  he  is  look- 
ing deeply  into  life  on  every  side ;  nothing  escapes  him  ; 
nothing  is  trivial  to  him.  His  novels  form  a  gallery  of 
portraiture  almost  presenting  the  comMie  humaine  of 
American  life. 

A  poet  born,  Mr.  Howells  made  himself  the  novelist. 
Twoscore  of  years  ago  his  keen  literary  instincts  told  him 
that  prose  romance  was  the  coming  literature.  He 
believed  in  his  star  and  followed  the  oracle.  It  is  they 
who  have  the  strength  to  follow  this  higher  vision  who 
succeed  ;  those  who  do  not  fail.  It  is  the  law  and  the 
prophets. 

Mr.  Howells  has  now  forsaken  Boston  for  New 
York,  but  his  life  in  the  modern  Athens  was  a  factor  of 
importance  in  its  most  brilliant  literary  period. 

Mr.  Francis  Parkman  was  one  of  the  most  remark- 
able men  in  the  Boston  group  that  made  the  Nineteenth 
century  so  marked  an  epoch  in  the  history  of  letters, 
and  his  character  and  relation  to  his  time  invite  as  well 
as  baffle  scrutiny.  His  nature  was  a  curious  mingling 
of  sympathy  and  frankness  and  of  reserve  even  to  the 
degree  of  isolation.  He  held  his  personal  life  and  his 
expression  in  literature  to  be  entirely  separate,  and,  too, 
he  lived  largely  in  a  lofty  world  of  thought  companioned 
in  some  inscrutable  way  by  response  and  inspiration 
from  other  sources  than  those  of  the  visible  world. 

"  Who  loves  the  music  of  the  spheres 
And  lives  on  earth,  must  close  his  ears 
To  many  voices  that  he  hears."   - 


318  BOSTON   DAYS 


Mr.  Parkman  loved  the  music  of  the  spheres.  And 
a  key  to  his  character  may  be  found  in  these  words 
from  his  own  writings.  "There  is,"  he  says,  "a 
universal  law  of  growth  and  achievement.  The  man 
who  knows  himself,  understands  his  own  powers  and 
aptitudes,  forms  purposes  in  accord  with  them  and  pur- 
sues these  purposes  steadily,  is  the  man  of  success." 
Mr.  Parkman's  early  aims  were  those  revealed  to  him 
by  the  unconscious  attraction  of  genius;  but  soon, 
even  in  his  undergraduate  days,  he  became  consciously 
aware  of  them,  and  from  that  time  until  his  death  he 
pursued  them  with  that  intelligent  and  inflexible  pur- 
pose which  compels  success.  His  biographer,  Mr. 
Farnham,  says  of  Mr.  Parkman  that  his  ^'physical 
organism  was  strangely  compounded  of  strength  and 
weakness.  It  lacked  that  equilibrium  of  forces  which 
secures  health  and  makes  consecutive  labor  possible,"  he 
continues,  and  he  notes  that  as  his  eyes  failed  him  while 
in  college  his  brain  suffered  from  this  cause  that  limited 
and  sometimes  prevented  intellectual  work;  that  his 
senses  were  not  developed  to  a  degree  that  allowed 
him  to  receive  acute  impressions  from  sound,  color, 
odors,  taste,  or  touch  ;  and  this  range  of  limitation 
resulted  in  producing  a  character  '^marked  by  a  few 
simple  and  elementary  powers  rather  than  by  delicacy, 
subtlety,  and  variety  of  sensibilities  and  emotions.  His 
entire  personality  was  moulded  by  the  master  quality 
of  manliness.  Impetuosity,  courage,  honesty,  energy, 
reserve,  a  practical  turn  of  mind,  and  an  iron  will  were 
his  chief  forces."     His  life  owed  little  to  scenic  effect. 


THE   GOLDEN   AGE   OF   GENIUS  319 

He  was  bora  in  1823,  the  eldest  son  of  Rev.  Francis 
Parkman,  D.D. ;  he  graduated  from  Harvard  in  the 
class  of  '44,  one  of  his  classmates  being  the  celebrated 
astronomer,  Dr.  Benjamin  Apthorp  Gould.  In  college 
vacations  he  visited  the  White  Mountain  regions  and 
Lake  George,  and  while  at  Ticonderoga  his  imagination 
was  fascinated  by  historic  facts  and  traditions  which 
took  possession  of  him  and  initiated  that  dramatic 
presentation  of  history  with  which  his  name  was 
destined  to  be  resplendently  identified.  It  would 
almost  seem  as  if  Mr.  Parkman  read  inscriptions  traced 
on  air  amid  the  scenes  of  the  Old  French  War,  or 
where  the  Conspiracy  of  Pontiac  was  devised.  During 
his  life  he  made  occasional  trips  to  Europe  where  his 
time  was  passed  mainly  in  Paris,  and  he  visited  Canada 
more  than  once,  and  also  made  expeditions  to  Florida 
and  to  the  Rocky  Mountain  regions  and  the  far  West 
in  search  of  and  verification  of  his  historic  material. 
He  was  one  of  the  founders,  and  served  as  the  first 
president,  of  the  St.  Botolph  Club  in  Boston.  Mr. 
Parkman  died  in  1893  lea^dng  the  world  enriched  by 
the  results  of  more  than  forty  years  of  the  most  pains- 
taking, accurate,  and  thorough  historic  research  vivified 
by  a  dramatic  vein  of  power  that  fairly  re-created  scene, 
actors,  and  circumstance  before  the  eye  of  the  reader. 

One  of  the  most  impressive  things  in  the  literary 
production  of  the  entire  Nineteenth  century  is  the 
process  by  which  Mr.  Parkman  arrived  at  his  pictu- 
resque, vital  and  pictorial  transcriptions  of  historic 
events.     He  was  the  magician  who  had  devised   the 


320  BOSTON   DAYS 


secret  spell  by  which  to  conjure  up  the   entire  living 
panorama  out  of  the  buried  past. 

Deprived  of  the  use  of  his  eyes,  he  was  compelled  to 
be  companioned  in  his  library  researches  by  an  educated 
man  who  read  aloud  to  him  the  varied  documents  that 
he  needed  to  consult.  Could  he  have  read  for  himself, 
a  glance  would  often  have  been  sufficient  to  reveal  the 
worth  or  worthlessness,  of  any  given  paper ;  but  as  he 
must  get  its  contents  through  the  medium  of  hearing, 
the  entire  matter  must  be  read.  There  was  great 
drudgery  of  work  in  the  extended  copying  essential  to 
his  plans.  In  London,  Paris,  and  in  Canada  he  had 
literary  experts  at  work  transcribing  and  verifying  his- 
toric data.  Mr.  Farnham  quotes  a  letter  which  Mr. 
Parkman  wrote  (in  June  of  '68)  to  his  classmate,  Dr. 
Gould,  the  eminent  astronomer,  which  reveals  the  reli- 
able accuracy  which  underlies  all  his  work :  — 

"  I  believe  there  is  a  difference  [writes  Mr.  Parkman  to 
Dr.  Gould]  between  the  way  of  estimating  latitude  in  the 
Seventeenth  century  and  now.  Can  you  without  much 
trouble  tell  me  how  this  is  ?  In  1685  La  Salle  calculated 
a  certain  point  on  the  Gulf  of  Mexico  at  28°  18'.  What 
would  this  correspond  with  on  a  modern  map  ?  How  can 
I  ascertain  if  a  comet  —  a  somewhat  remarkable  one  -^ 
was  visible  from  the  site  of  Peoria,  Illinois,  in  January, 
1681?  Also,  how  can  I  ascertain  on  what  day  of  the 
month  Easter  Monday,  1680,  occurred?  I  want  the 
information  to  test  the  accuracy  of  certain  journals  in 
my  possession." 

The  supreme  value  of  Mr.  Parkman's  historical  works, 
however,  is  not  limited  to  his  faithful,  accurate,  and  vivid 


THE   GOLDEN   AGE   OF   GENIUS  321 

reproductions  of  the  past,  in  a  moving  panorama,  before 
the  eyes  of  the  reader ;  but  he  carried  his  work  into  the 
realm  of  philosophic  and  spiritual  insight  and  demanded 
of  each  phase  of  civilization  the  results  it  produced  in 
humanity. 

Mr.  Parkman's  series  of  works  dealing  with  France 
and  England  in  North  America  ("  Pioneers  of  France 
in  the  New  World,"  "  The  Jesuits  in  North  America," 
"La  Salle  and  the  Discovery  of  the  Great  West,"  "  The 
Old  Regime,"  "  Count  Frontenac  and  New  France 
under  Louis  XIV.,"  "Montcalm  and  Wolfe,"  and 
"  A  Half  Century  of  Conflict ")  are  a  contribution  to 
permanent  literature  that  is  indispensable  to  scholarly 
knowledge,  to  that  culture  of  thought  based  on  data 
and  information  and,  as  well,  also,  these  works  are 
indispensable  to  a  true  intellectual  grasp  of  the  relations 
of  events  to  the  general  trend  and  the  progress  of  civili- 
zation. The  literary  quality  of  Mr.  Parkman's  style  is  so 
fine  as  to  make  his  works  an  education  in  belles-lettres  ; 
and  he  remains  a  spiritual  hero  of  the  Nineteenth 
century  amid  the  choice  group  who  made  that  wonder- 
ful period  when 

"  The  total  air  was  fame." 


21 


TV 


THE  DAWN  OF   THE  TWENTIETH 
CENTURY 


In  the  years  tliat  shall  be  ye  shall  harness  the   Powers  of  the 

ether, 
And  drive  them  with  reins  as  a  steed. 

Ye  shall  ride  as  a  Power  of  the  air,  on  a  Force  that  is  bridled, 
On  a  saddled  Element  leap. 

And  the  dead  whom  ye  loved  ye  shall  walk  with,  and  speak  with 

the  lost. 
The  delusion  of  Death  shall  pass, 

The  delusion  of  mounded  earth,  the  apparent  withdrawal; 
Ye  shall  shed  your  bodies,  and  upward  flutter  to  freedom. 

Stephen  Phillips. 


THE  DAWN  OF  THE  TWENTIETH  CENTURY 

"  Eternal  process  moving  on : 

From  state  to  state  the  spirit  walks." 

ORTY  years  ago,  when  I  was  an  under- 
graduate at  Oxford,"  said  Matthew  Arnold, 
"  there  were  voices  in  the  air  which  haunt 
my  memory  still.  Happy  the  man  who  in  the  suscep- 
tible period  of  youth  hears  such  voices !  They  are  a 
possession  to  him  forever." 

In  the  Boston  air  for  more  than  the  two  decades  of 
1870-90,  there  sounded  a  wonderful  voice  with  its 
thrilling  and  prophetic  message,  —  the  voice  of  Phillips 
Brooks,  who  preached  his  first  sermon  as  the  rector 
of  Trinity  Church  on  Oct.  31,  1869,  and  over  whose 
lifeless  form  the  funeral  rites  were  read  in  his  beloved 
church  on  Jan.  26,  1893.  Between  these  dates  lies 
the  story  of  the  most  profound  and  significant  ministry 
of  the  Nineteenth  century.  The  work  of  Dr.  Brooks  as 
the  Bishop  of  Massachusetts  covered  but  fifteen  months  ; 
his  ministry  as  rector  of  Trinity  Church  was  but  little 
more  than  two  decades,  and  the  eleven  years  of  his 
previous  ministerial  service  in  Philadelphia  must  be 
viewed  largely  as  a  preparatory  period ;  yet  out  of  this 
comparatively  brief  time  of  work,   his  sudden   death 


S26  BOSTON   DAYS 


on  the  morning  of  Jan.  23,  1893,  stirred  and  thrilled 
Boston  and  the  entire  commonwealth  as  no  event 
had  done  before  since  the  death  of  Daniel  Webster, 
and  it  will  easily  be  realized  how  much  less  of  both 
city  and  State  there  was  to  be  thrilled  and  stirred  in 
1852  than  in  1893.  Not  alone,  either,  to  city  or  State, 
or  even  to  New  England,  was  the  phenomenal  out- 
pouring of  sorrow  limited.  From  Boston  to  Calcutta, 
from  San  Francisco  to  London,  from  Chicago  to  Paris, 
one  cry  of  lament  arose.  The  daily  press,  never  too 
largely  given  over  to  spiritual  contemplation,  declared, 
from  the  Atlantic  to  the  Pacific,  and  from  the  Northern 
pine  to  the  Southern  palm,  that  the  death  of  Bishop 
Brooks  was  a  national  calamity. 

Well  may  one  pause  and  question  as  to  what  element 
or  characteristic  in  the  personality  of  Phillips  Brooks 
thus  touched  "the  electric  chain  with  which  we  are 
darkly  bound "  in  so  unprecedented  a  manner  ? 

The  Rt.  Rev.  Phillips  Brooks,  S.T.D.,  LL.D.,  late 
Bishop  of  Massachusetts,  was  a  cultivated  and  scholarly 
and  courteous  gentleman ;  but  there  is  nothing  re- 
markably distinctive  in  that  characterization.  All 
around  him  were  other  men  equally  or  even  more 
scholarly,  perhaps  of  more  extended  culture  and  of  far 
greater  experience  were  experience  to  be  measured  by 
duration  of  time,  although  its  true  measurement  is 
rather  by  depth  than  length  of  life.  In  his  exquisite 
courtesy  —  in  a  manner  that  a  prince  might  have  en- 
vied —  no  one  could  surpass  him ;  but  in  the  polished 
circles  of  Boston  and  Cambridge  it  would  go  hard  to 


DAWN   OF   THE   TWENTIETH    CENTURY     327 

affirm  that  even  in  this  exquisite  courtesy  he  was  un- 
rivalled. Side  by  side  with  him  stood  a  group  of  sin- 
gularly exalted  and  remarkable  men,  of  whom  the 
venerable  Rev.  Dr.  Andrew  P.  Peabody,  Rev.  Dr. 
Edward  Everett  Hale,  Rev.  George  A.  Gordon,  Rev. 
Dr.  Philip  Moxom,  Rev.  Minot  Judson  Savage,  James 
Freeman  Clarke  (and,  after  Dr.  Clarke's  death,  his  no 
less  remarkable  successor,  Rev.  Dr.  Charles  Gordon 
Ames,  one  of  the  most  exalted  and  spiritual  of  men),  — 
these  names  and  others  of  fame  and  greatness  will 
readily  recur  to  all  as  men  who  brought  to  mankind 
messages  that  are  advancing  the  entire  general  life  to  a 
higher  plane.  Their  work  is  so  marked  a  feature  of  the 
time  that,  even  though  we  may  regard  special  prophecies 
as  vain  and  idle,  it  cannot  be  denied  that  certain  ten- 
dencies belong  to  this  period  which  may  well  arrest 
attention  and  denote  that  the  world  is  coming  to  Christ 
—  that  He  through  spiritual  agencies  is  again  coming 
to  the  world  —  in  a  manner  not  less  real  because  not 
characterized  by  outward  sign  or  phenomenon.  No  con- 
templation of  Bishop  Brooks  could  approach  complete- 
ness without  the  largest  recognition  of  the  rich  atmos- 
phere and  remarkable  contemporary  associations  amid 
which  he  was  so  exalted  a  figure. 

The  quality  which  defined  his  life  and  work  so  dis- 
tinctively was  his  power  of  relating  the  divinest  thought 
to  the  ordinary  occurrences  of  life ;  of  investing  them 
with  spiritual  significance.  He  contemplated  reli- 
gion,—  not  so  much  as  an  ornament  to  life  as  com- 
pletely identified  with  life  itself.     He   believed   the 


328  BOSTON   DAYS 


redeemed  life  —  that  which  has  caught  the  vision  and 
the  glory  —  to  be  the  only  life,  and  only  in  the  degree 
to  which  man  lives  the  life  of  the  spirit,  does  he  live 
at  all.  "  This  is  the  victory  that  overcometh  the  world, 
even  your  faith,"  he  would  quote,  and  add  that  only  by 
belief  in  something  higher  could  man  master  the  lower. 
"  Oh,  the  necessity  of  loving  purity  and  great  thoughts 
about  great  themes,"  he  would  say,  —  "  not  merely  being 
driven  to  them."  His  gospel  was  essentially  that  of 
achieving  the  life  more  abundant.  While  he  loved 
nature,  he  preferred  town  to  country  because  there 
centre  the  interests  of  human  life.  His  biographer, 
Rev.  Dr.  Alexander  V.  G.  Allen,  relates  that  once  when 
Dr.  Brooks  was  calling  on  a  friend  at  the  Hotel  Bruns- 
wick some  one  spoke  of  the  beauties  of  nature,  and  that 
Dr.  Brooks  rose,  looked  out  of  the  window  over  the 
wide  view  of  homes  and  church  spires  and  towers,  and 
said,  "'  Oh,  no  !  not  nature,  but  this  beautiful  view. 
Give  me  this,  for  it  stands  for  life,  for  humanity, 
and  that  is  what  attracts  me  and  makes  life  worth  the 
living." 

He  saw  Christ  as  the  divine  illustration  of  human 
perfection ;  the  revelation  in  himself  of  the  highest 
ideal  possibilities.  We  find  him  saying  :  ^'  Through  the 
divine  humanity  of  Jesus,  God  was  manifest  in  the  flesh, 
and  therefore  all  that  Jesus  taught  and  ever  teaches, 
whether  by  word  or  action,  is  the  consummation  and 
fulfilment  of  that  presentation  of  Himself  which  God  is 
ever  making  through  humanity  to  man.  And  the  great 
teachers  of  religion  who  have  done  the  most  Christ-like 


DAWN   OF   THE   TWENTIETH    CENTURY     329 

work  have  always  been  those  whose  personality  has 
been  most  complete,  and  who  have  been  in  truest  human 
relation  to  the  souls  they  taught." 

This  theory  of  Dr.  Brooks  was  realized  in  a  remarkable 
degree  in  his  own  life.  He  was  in  the  widest  related- 
ness  to  humanity.  Whether  it  was  preaching  before 
the  Queen  by  the  special  invitation  of  her  Majesty  in 
the  Chapel  Royal  at  Windsor  Castle,  or  caring  for  the 
infant  child  of  a  poor  colored  woman  that  she  might  go 
out  in  the  open  air,  his  personal  sympathy  went  out  in 
the  most  vital  and  —  reverently  let  it  be  said  —  in  the 
most  Christ-like  way,  to  man  or  woman  who  needed 
his  thought  or  aid,  at  the  moment.  This  was  the 
secret  regarding  the  remarkable  impress  made  upon  life 
by  Phillips  Brooks,  —  a  secret  eluding  the  mind  but 
haunting  the  heart ;  the  secret  that  defies  intellectual 
analysis  but  reveals  itself  to  the  intuition.  He  was  not 
only  "  the  friend  and  aider  of  those  who  would  live  in 
the  Spirit/'  —  he  was  the  friend  and  aider  to  discover 
to  itself  the  imprisoned  spirit,  and  reveal  to  it  gleams 
of  light  and  sweetness  heretofore  undreamed  of,  and 
communicate  to  it,  through  the  magnetism  of  sympathy, 
new  vitality  and  hope.  His  magical  power  over  men 
lay  in  appeal  to  the  higher  self,  the  better  self,  of  each 
individual.  He  did  not  conceive  of  Christians  and 
men ;  but  he  said,  virtually :  The  only  real  manhood, 
the  only  genuine  womanhood,  is  Christian  manhood 
or  womanhood.  To  be  a  Christian  is  not  an  abnormal, 
but  the  normal  state.  It  is  simply  the  human  being 
entering  into  his  heritage.     You  are  a  child  of  God. 


330  BOSTON    DAYS 


Claim  your  birthright.  He  took  the  eternal  truths 
of  the  gospel  of  Jesus  and  put  them  into  modern 
circulation. 

It  was  sometimes  questioned  as  to  the  consistency  of 
such  a  minister  in  remaining  the  rector  of  what  it 
pleased  many  people  to  call  a  "rich  and  fashionable 
church."  Jesus  said  leave  all,  —  all,  not  a  part,  —  and 
follow  me,  the  questioner  would  say,  adding,  "But 
Dr.  Brooks  lives  in  and  amid  luxury.  He  preaches  to 
rich  people.     Is  that  the  highest  Christianity  ?  " 

Now  if  any  enterprising  sociologist  has  yet  discovered 
that  rich  people  do  not  possess  souls,  or  that  their  souls 
are  not  worth  saving,  there  might  be  a  modicum  of 
force  in  this  arraignment.  But  at  all  events,  Phillips 
Brooks'  charity  was  wide  enough  to  include  in  his  love 
and  care  even  the  millionaires.  For  he  saw  in  this  field 
a  remarkable  opportunity.  When  he  was  called,  in 
1869,  from  Philadelphia,  to  be  the  rector  of  Trinity 
Church,  he  came  to  a  peculiar  field  of  labor.  He  was 
then  thirty-four  years  of  age.  He  was  Boston  born 
and  bred  and  educated.  He  was  well  descended,  Rev. 
John  Cotton  being  among  his  paternal  ancestors,  while 
his  mother  was  a  Phillips,  of  the  noted  family  who 
founded  the  two  Phillips  Academies,  —  at  Andover  and 
Exeter.  He  graduated  from  the  Boston  Latin  School 
at  sixteen  ;  from  Harvard  at  twenty,  in  the  class  of  '55, 
which  included  Rev.  Alexander  McKenzie,  D.D., 
Robert  Treat  Paine,  and  Frank  B.  Sanborn,  the  eminent 
social  scientist ;  he  had  studied  theology  at  Alexandria, 
Va.,  where  his  classmate  and  nearest  friend  was  Henry 


DAWN   OF   THE   TWENTIETH    CENTURY     331 

C.  Potter,  now  the  distinguished  Bishop  of  New  York ; 
he  had  taken  holy  orders  at  twenty-four  and  had  gone 
as  assistant  minister  to  his  beloved  and  revered  friend 
and  former  pastor,  Rev.  Dr.  Vinton,  in  the  Church  of 
the  Advent,  Philadelphia,  from  which  later,  he  accepted 
a  call  to  be  the  rector  of  Holy  Trinity  in  that  city;  all 
these  activities  had  occupied  his  time  up  to  that  memo- 
rable December  of  1869,  when  he  entered  on  what  was 
to  prove  the  real  work  of  his  life,  -;-  the  rectorship  of 
Trinity  Church,  Boston.  He  came  to  a  most  unique 
and  remarkable  field.  The  congregation  of  Trinity  was 
composed  of  people  of  fastidious  culture  and  critical 
demands ;  and  they  held,  perhaps,  largely,  the  general 
conception  of  the  day,  that  the  Christian  life  was  to 
observe  with  due  decorum  the  ritual  of  the  church,  to 
give  aid  in  food,  or  clothing,  or  money  to  "  the  poor ;  " 
but  to  give  close  personal  sympathy,  to  give  themselves^ 
was  undreamed  of,  —  in  a  word,  the  churches  of  the  day 
were  largely  composed  of  people  who,  after  the  witti- 
cism of  Mr.  Ho  wells,  ^^  hoped  that  their  souls  were  im- 
mortal, but  knew  that  they  were  cultivated  !  "  Of  course 
this  must  not  be  taken  too  literally,  nor,  indeed,  to  re- 
flect in  any  way  upon  the  individuals  of  Trinity  Church. 
But  the  prevailing  ideals  of  that  time  were  after  this 
order.  People  were  to  be  moral,  kind,  and  observe  the 
church  calendar.  The  poor  were  to  be  fed;  the  sick 
were  to  be  nursed ;  but  that  any  actual  personal  sym- 
pathy could  exist  between  the  carers  and  the  cared  for, 
save  that  of  kind  condescension  on  the  one  hand  and 
meek  gratitude  on  the  other,  had  less  generally  dawned 


332  BOSTON   DAYS 


upon  the  public  mind  than  at  the  present  time,  and  had 
not  entered  so  closely  into  the  public  heart. 

The  young  rector  had  the  especial  qualifications  as  a 
missionary  to  the  rich  and  the  cultivated.  He  was  well 
born  (was  he  not  Boston  born  ?  what  would  you  more  ?), 
he  was  well-bred ;  he  was  in  touch  with  polite  society 
and  elegant  culture.  He  was  eloquent;  he  had  even 
then  begun  to  be  famous,  and  he  reflected  credit  upon 
the  fastidious  taste  of  Trinity  parish.  The  young  rector 
was  all  these,  —  but  he  was  a  great  deal  beside.  He 
had  a  heart,  and  a  great  one.  He  had  sympathies,  he 
had  certain  very  noble  ideals,  but  even  all  these  were, 
at  that  period  of  his  life,  somewhat  nebulous  in  com- 
parison with  the  marvellous  richness  of  his  spiritual  life 
in  later  years.  Yet  one  element  of  his  nature  was  in 
bold  relief  always,  —  his  absolute  sincerity.  That  is  the 
foundation  on  which  his  great  character  was  based. 

It  would  not  have  been  too  difficult  for  a  young 
minister  in  his  place  to  have  become  the  fashionable 
clergyman  of  a  fashionable  church.  But  there  was  in 
Phillips  Brooks  that  stuff  which  scorned  any  approach 
to  being  "  the  idle  singer  of  an  empty  day."  He  im- 
mediately began  to  exert  a  direct  and  positive  influence 
upon  his  hearers,  and  to  achieve,  on  his  own  side, 
higher  spirituality. 

If  we  may  hope  to  surprise  the  secret  of  the  remark- 
able power  of  Dr.  Brooks,  is  it  not  that  by  some 
magic  of  spiritual  alchemy  he  was  able  to  create  a 
magnetic  union  between  the  inner  and  the  outer 
worlds,  in  which  invisible  realm  lies  the  germ  of  all 


DAWN   OF  THE  TWENTIETH   CENTURY     333 

great  deeds  ?  To  enter  into  this  magnetic  union ;  to 
come  into  the  conditions  of  swift  receptivity  to  its 
forces  and  to  a  knowledge  of  its  laws  is  to  achieve 
the  true  secret  of  life. 

For  were  humanity  to  adjust  itself  in  perfect  har- 
mony with  the  spiritual  laws,  it  would  be  able  to 
command  the  powers  of  earth  and  air.  Right  purpose 
is  power ;  and  so,  in  the  depressed  periods  of  dark 
days  one  has  but  to  cling  unfalteringly  to  a  pure  purpose 
and  demand  his  union  with  the  divine  energy.  The 
most  intense  spiritual  potencies  may  be  generated 
during  such  seasons.  *^He  restoreth  the  soul."  The 
soul  has  lapsed  into  doubt,  depression,  into  the  nega- 
tive region.     God  restoreth  it. 

Never  were  the  preaching  and  the  personality  of  a 
minister  more  widely  discussed  than  were  those  of 
Phillips  Brooks.  His  was  one  of  those  many-faceted 
personalities  that  flash  a  new  and  a  different  angle  of 
vision  to  every  onlooker.  He  was  inscrutable  in  his 
nature ;  not  con  intentione,  but  inevitably.  More- 
over, he  was  full  of  surprises,  for  he  was  very  human, 
as  well  as  very  full  of  the  divine  uplifting,  and  he  was 
at  all  times  and  under  all  circumstances  singularly 
impressive,  however  unconsciously  so. 

His  work  was  so  endowed  with  vitality  that  its 
growth  was  its  perpetual  change,  —  not  by  revolutionary 
epochs  but  by  evolutionary  advancement.  By  all  these 
spiritual  epochs  in  the  life  of  Phillips  Brooks  the 
contemporary  world  was  profoundly  moved.  With  the 
appearance  of  the  greatest  simplicity,  his  character  was 


334,  BOSTON   DAYS 


really  one  of  the  greatest  complexity.  The  key  to 
much  that  Dr.  Brooks  would  do,  at  any  one  time, 
would  be  found  in  some  future  —  perhaps  far  future  — 
time.  This  fact  suggests  one  profound  truth  of  human 
life.  Just  in  proportion  to  its  spiritual  development, 
life  is  twofold.  And  it  is  not  only  that  one  phase  of 
it  is  lived  constantly  on  the  plane  of  the  spiritual  and 
in  contact  with  unseen  forces  and  unseen  companion- 
ships ;  but,  what  adds  to  the  complexity  of  this  most 
curious  and  often  most  baffling  problem  of  life  is,  that 
the  life  in  the  unseen  and  in  the  seen  are  not  con- 
temporaneous, but  that  the  one  precedes  the  other, 
and  determines  and  constrains  the  individual  often  to 
do  that  which,  at  the  moment,  he  himself  knows  not 
why  he  does ;  the  action,  while  perfectly  conscious,  yet 
being,  at  the  moment,  almost  automatic. 

There  were  two  qualities  of  almost  equal  potency  in 
the  character  of  Dr.  Brooks,  —  patriotism  and  piety. 
The  latter,  it  ^ight  be  thought,  would  go  without 
saying  regarding  a  man  in  his  sacred  office,  yet  the 
piety  of  Phillips  Brooks  was  so  entirely  the  life  of  the 
spirit  lived  out  in  practical  every- day  afikirs  that  it  had 
little  in  common  with  that  more  formal  religion  — 

"...  scrimped  and  iced, 
In  the  name  of  a  cautious,  statistical  Christ." 

It  was  the  piety  that  said :  "  Come,  live  in  the  spirit. 
That  is  the  only  life.  Not  a  life  of  sacrifice  and  sad- 
ness and  seclusion,  but  the  life  of  all  fulness  of  purpose, 
all  greatness  of  achievement,  all  gladness  and  joy.     Do 


DAWN   OF   THE  TWENTIETH   CENTURY     335 

not  forsake  your  business,  your  profession,  but  be  by 
so  much  more  the  better  merchant,  engineer,  lawyer. 
Christian  manhood  is  only  manhood  developed  to  its 
utmost  capacity.  Manhood  has  not  attained  its  normal 
possibilities  until  it  is  Christian  manhood."  This  was 
the  same  spirit  with  which  Phillips  Brooks  galvanized 
into  living  power  truths  too  often  held  as  abstract  as  a 
proposition  of  Euclid. 

The  life  of  Phillips  Brooks  fell  naturally  into  three 
periods,  —  that  of  preparation,  that  of  the  rector  of  a 
great  and  notable  parish,  and  that  of  the  Episcopate. 
In  each  of  these  periods  we  see  those  two  determining 
qualities,  patriotism  and  piety,  alike  pre-eminent. 

As  rector,  the  work  of  Phillips  Brooks  was  never 
bounded  by  the  limits  of  Trinity  parish.  His  church, 
the  community,  and  the  general  progress  of  the  day  are 
the  threefold  points  from  which  his  work  must  be 
estimated.  Nor  can  the  ministry  of  this  great  preacher 
be  exclusively  claimed  even  by  the  Episcopal  Church. 
His  work  was  in  those  deeper  regions  of  life  and 
thought  where  varying  opinions  find  a  common  basis 
of  truth  and  rest  on  the  universal.  The  catholicity  of 
Phillips  Brooks  was  a  positive  force  which  impressed 
itself  marvellously  upon  the  age. 

When  he  entered  upon  the  pastorate  of  Trinity 
Church,  he  found  his  field  to  lie  in  one  of  the  most 
conservative  and  intensely  aristocratic  parishes  of 
America.  He  resolved  that,  although  by  the  parish 
laws  the  church  must  still  be  one  of  rented  pews 
rather  than  free,  it  must  still  rise  to  the  true  spirit  of 


336  BOSTON   DAYS 


Christian  courtesy  and  hospitality.  Nor  were  his 
efforts  in  vain,  for  Trinity  became  noted  for  its  marked 
courtesy  and  generous  hospitality,  —  a  hospitality,  in- 
deed, that  so  overflowed  all  considerations  of  the  right 
of  possession  that  it  came  to  be  laughingly  remarked 
that  the  unfortunate  pew-owners  seemed  to  be  the  only 
persons  who  could  not  be  accommodated  in  the  church, 
and  who  had  no  rights  that  the  public  were  bound  to 
respect.  By  the  rector's  desire  a  row  of  chairs  was 
placed  around  the  chancel,  and  several  long  seats 
added  in  rows  on  either  side,  all  free  to  the  occupants, 
"  and  as  many  as  can  come  and  sit  in  ray  pulpit  with 
me  are  welcome,"  characteristically  asserted  the  rector. 
It  came,  indeed,  to  be  a  great  problem  at  Trinity  as  to 
the  possible  accommodation  of  the  throngs  that  crowded 
the  church — aisles  and  corridors  and  the  very  steps  of 
the  altar  —  to  hear  Phillips  Brooks.  A  large  propor- 
tion of  these  would  gladly  have  purchased  seats  could 
they  have  been  obtained,  and  there  was,  on  the  part 
of  many,  great  hesitation  about  crowding  into  a 
church  where  they  must,  perforce,  depend  upon  hos- 
pitality or  chance  for  seats.  But  whenever  Phillips 
Brooks  was  to  be  heard,  the  people  must  go.  Whether 
in  the  luxurious  and  beautiful  interior  of  Trinity,  or  in 
the  bare,  if  venerable  and  historic,  precincts  of  Faneuil 
Hall,  or  a  south  end  "  opera "  house,  —  it  mattered 
little.  The  large  proportion  of  women  over  men,  which 
is  a  feature  of  Boston,  obliged  the  great  preacher  to 
exclude  them  entirely  when  he  gave  courses  of  Lenten 
lectures  to  business  men,  or  the  women  would  have 


DAWN   OF   THE   TWENTIETH   CENTURY     337 

entirely  pre-empted  the  church.  The  Boston  woman 
usually  asserts  her  "rights,"  to  say  nothing  of  her 
privileges;  but  on  these  memorable  occasions  she  was 
remanded  to  feminine  seclusion. 

Perhaps  no  man  has  ever  more  truly  and  faithfully 
fulfilled  the  duty  of  speaking  the  truth  in  love  than 
Phillips  Brooks.  In  a  remarkable  degree  he  combined 
the  widest  and  tenderest  charity  towards  human  nature, 
and  a  power  of  holding  before  it  the  divine  ideal  by 
which  its  conduct  must  be  measured.  The  true  realism 
of  life,  he  would  say,  is  not  that  base  realism  which 
only  records  the  failures  and  limitations  of  man,  but 
that  which  also  takes  into  account  his  higher  possibil- 
ities. A  man's  life  is  committed  to  the  world,  and  here 
two  intensely  vital  things  come  together.  "  It  is  the 
meeting  of  these  two  intensely  living  things,"  Dr. 
Brooks  would  say,  "this  meeting  of  the  universe  of 
facts  and  truths  and  of  this  living  nature  of  man,  with 
his  conscience  and  intellect,  that  makes  the  complica- 
tions of  life,  and  it  is  out  of  these,  too,  that  the  dangers 
of  life  must  proceed."  The  lessons  that  he  presented 
in  this  remarkable  discourse  were,  first,  that  "  there  is 
no  condition  in  this  world,  no  matter  what  privileges 
and  safeguards  are  thrown  around  it,  that  can  liberate 
a  man  from  the  constant  watching  of  his  own  integrity 
and  the  truthfulness  of  his  soul."  And,  again,  he 
taught  that  the  man  who  knows  the  danger  by  which 
he  is  surrounded  must  be  filled  of  tenderest  charity,  of 
deep  consideration,  and  of  the  largest  possible  indul- 
gence for  the  nature  of  those  who,  surrounded  by  the 


338  BOSTON   DAYS 


same  danger,  have  fallen  into  the  depths  from  which  he 
happily  has  saved  himself. 

Dr.  Brooks  was  eminently  social  in  his  nature.  He 
had  a  fund  of  humor  which  reveals  itself  in  his  letters, 
of  which  a  volume  has  been  published,  and  he  was 
swift  in  epigram  and  repartee.  He  was  the  most  ac- 
cessible of  men.  After  he  became  bishop,  his  private 
secretary,  the  Rev.  Dr.  William  Henry  Brooks  (who, 
though  bearing  the  same  name,  was  not  related  to 
him),  suggested  that  he  must  have  office  hours,  in  order 
to  secure  any  time  for  himself.  He  replied  that  a 
clergyman  or  layman  "  when  leaving  his  business  to 
consult  with  me,  not  knowing  of  the  observance  of 
office  hours  (should  there  be  such),  might  find  his  time 
wasted,  and  be  disappointed  of  the  desired  interview. 
No,  I  am  not  willing  to  have  office  hours.  If  people 
wish  to  see  me,  I  ought  to  and  will  see  them,"  he 
concluded. 

Dr.  William  Henry  Brooks  notes  that  '^  on  another 
occasion,  when  some  one  spoke  to  him  of  the  great  con- 
sumption of  his  time  in  receiving  the  almost  number- 
less calls  of  persons  who  desired  his  counsel  and 
assistance,  and  the  wear  and  tear  of  his  strength  which 
must  follow  in  consequence,  he  replied  with  great 
emphasis,  ^God  save  the  day  when  they  won't  come 
to  me.'  " 

In  February  of  1891,  Bishop  Paddock  of  Massachu- 
setts died,  and  the  clamor  which  arose  that  he  should 
be  succeeded  by  Dr.  Brooks  has  not  yet  faded  from 
the  public  memory.     At  the  diocesan  convention  in  the 


DAWN   OF   THE   TWENTIETH    CENTURY     339 

following  May  he  was  elected  by  so  large  a  majority 
that  it  was  made  unanimous ;  during  the  ensuing 
summer  the  choice  was  confirmed  by  the  House  of 
Bishops,  and  on  Oct.  14,  1891,  Dr.  Brooks  was  con- 
secrated bishop  in  Trinity  Church,  in  all  the  splendor 
of  that  elaborate  and  brilliant  ceremonial. 

When  the  rector  of  Trinity  became  the  bishop  of  the 
diocese,  the  only  change  was  seen  in  the  constant 
deepening  and  broadening  of  his  consecrated  power. 
His  eloquence,  his  fervor,  his  profound  spirituality, 
were  conjoined  with  the  same  simplicity  of  manner, 
directness  of  purpose,  zeal  for  humanity,  and  love  for 
his  country,  that  always  made  his  teaching  so  im- 
pressive. He  kept  his  faith  in  the  divine  element  in 
man.  He  could  arouse  and  inspire  because  he  brought 
to  bear  that  eternal  force  of  positive  affirmation.  It 
is  the  force  to  which  humanity  responds.  "  It  is  the 
belief  in  the  redeemable  qualities  of  man  which  is  the 
most  potent  spell  in  the  University  of  Christ,"  said 
Bishop  Potter  in  his  personal  address  to  Dr.  Brooks  on 
the  occasion  of  his  consecration  as  bishop,  ^'and," 
added  Bishop  Potter,  ^^as  it  seems  to  me,  you  have 
never  lost  it  out  of  yours." 

In  his  work  as  bishop.  Dr.  Brooks  was  faithful, 
earnest,  and  thorough,  rather,  perhaps,  than  methodical. 
He  was  very  careful  in  keeping  appointments,  and 
absolutely  sincere  in  his  expression.  The  response  '^  I 
will  do  it  if  I  can,"  from  Bishop  Brooks,  did  not  mean 
"  I  will  do  it  if,  at  the  time,  I  feel  inclined,"  but  con- 
veyed the  literal  significance  of  the  w^ords.     He  was 


340  BOSTON    DAYS 


too  imaginative,  too  spontaneous  a  man  to  be  given 
over  wholly  to  routine,  and  he  was  apt  to  write  his 
sermons  when  the  spell  came  upon  him,  rather  than  in 
any  specific  hours.  The  morning  was  usually  his  best 
time  to  write,  —  the  time  when  he  felt  his  thought  the 
clearest  and  deepest. 

Before  entering  on  the  duties  of  the  Episcopate  he 
attended  personally  to  his  large  correspondence.  Every 
letter,  note,  or  request,  no  matter  how  ill-timed  it  might 
be,  received  its  adequate  reply  in  his  clear,  concise  chi- 
rography,  characterized  by  his  marked  courtesy.  It  is 
a  study  in  human  nature  to  know  some  of  the  extraor- 
dinary things  on  which  Bishop  Brooks  was  consulted. 
A  woman  in  Minnesota  who  wanted  a  pension,  a  man 
in  India  who  desired  some  information  regarding  a 
registry  in  a  church  in  Montreal,  are  but  specimens  of 
the  requests,  foreign  to  his  province,  that  rained  down 
upon  him.  "So  far  as  is  possible,"  remarked  the 
bishop's  secretary,  "  Dr.  Brooks  fulfils  all  the  things 
asked  of  him.  We  spent  a  good  deal  of  time  to  get  the 
registry  matter  at  Montreal  traced  up,  and  multitudes 
of  things  that  a  man  less  busy  —  less  great  —  than  the 
bishop  would  refuse  or  ignore,  he  gives  attention  to. 
It  is  all  the  w^ork  of  humanity." 

His  personal  service  was  as  untiring  as  his  courtesy 
was  infinite.  At  one  time  a  poor  clergyman  from 
abroad  was  in  Boston  and,  beside  his  limited  resources, 
he  was  also  in  ill  health.  Bishop  Brooks  entertained 
him  in  his  own  home,  went  with  him  to  New  York,  and 
saw  him  safely  aboard  the  steamer,  and  this  to  a  stran- 


"S 


DAWN   OF   THE   TWENTIETH    CENTURY     341 

ger  who  had  no  claim  on  him,  as  many  would  have  said, 
and  was  not  even  of  his  own  denomination.  Bishop 
Brooks  lived  that  brotherhood  of  man  that  the  most 
advanced  thought  of  to-day  holds  as  its  ideal. 

To  the  Episcopate  of  Massachusetts  Bishop  Brooks 
brought  such  spiritual  vitality  as  to  regenerate  and  re- 
create it.  He  was  always  joyful  in  his  work.  His 
meat  was  to  do  the  will  of  Him  who  sent  him.  He 
rejoiced  in  the  inestimable  privilege  of  bringing  sym- 
pathy and  uplifting  and  a  larger  sense  of  duty  to  man. 
His  messages  were  delivered  with  a  magnetism  and  a 
force  that  proved  them  heaven  sent.  His  personal  holi- 
ness of  character  was  felt  in  all  the  community  and  it 
served  as  an  object  lesson  to  teach  that  the  Redeemer 
liveth  —  liveth  as  an  ever-present  force  in  the  affairs 
and  the  purposes  of  life.  The  teaching  of  Phillips 
Brooks  was  one  full  of  hope  and  spiritual  energy  be- 
cause, while  recognizing  the  sinfulness  of  sin,  he  saw 
always  the  divine  possibilities  in  humanity  and  God's 
purpose  in  its  development.  "  Never  be  afraid,"  he 
would  say,  "to  bring  the  sublimest  ideal  to  the  most 
insignificant  act." 

While  Trinity  parish  was  the  beloved  centre  of  the 
work  of  Dr.  Brooks,  it  radiated  over  the  entire  city. 
It  was  so  vital,  so  pervasive,  it  so  diffused  itself  like  the 
sunlight,  it  touched  life  at  so  many  points,  and  every- 
body's life  at  some  point,  that  it  is  no  exaggeration  to 
say  that  his  sudden  death  left  Boston  empty  and  dark 
without  his  presence.  Every  one  felt  that  he  had  lost 
a  personal  friend.     "  Those  who  trust  us  educate  us," 


542  BOSTON   DAYS 


said  George  Eliot.  Phillips  Brooks  trusted  humanity. 
He  believed  iu  it ;  and  because  he  appealed  to  that 
which  is  best  and  noblest  in  every  man,  he  never 
appealed  in  vain. 

Press  and  pulpit  poured  out  their  utterances  over  the 
uplifting  example  of  Phillips  Brooks.  The  best  ethical 
thought  of  the  day  was  inspired  by  his  life  and  work ; 
and  of  all  there  was  perhaps  no  expression  more  price- 
less than  that  in  the  sermon  preached  on  Bishop  Brooks 
by  the  Rev.  Dr.  Charles  Gordon  Ames,  in  the  Church 
of  the  Disciples,  who,  in  this  memorable  discourse, 
said :  — 

"  The  best  is  yet  to  come.  All  that  Bishop  Brooks 
has  done  for  good  during  his  thirty-four  years  of  public 
service  is  small  compared  with  the  cumulative  effect  and 
growing  outcome  of  his  word  and  his  life.  The  spiritual 
power  which  he  received  from  a  hidden  source  he  has 
transmitted  to  the  world ;  and  that  power  is  here  to  stay. 
It  is  to  be  a  permanent  and  continuous  working  force  in 
human  hearts  and  in  human  affairs.  Every  man's  influ- 
ence is  just  like  himself,  and  it  flows  on  like  a  widening 
stream,  mingling  with  other  influences,  and  modified  in  its 
effects  by  time  and  circumstances,  yet  ever  holding  the 
same  general  direction  and  working  to  the  same  general 
result." 

Bishop  Brooks  was  no  mystic  or  visionary  by  nature. 
He  had  far  less  of  that  tendency  to  see  visions  and  to 
dream  dreams  than  might  have  naturally  been  looked 
for  in  one  whose  life  was  consecrated  to  spiritual  pur- 
suits. Yet  he  was  an  omnivorous  reader  of  occult  and 
mystic  lore,  and  the  mysticism  of  Emerson  had  no  more 


DAWN   OF   THE   TWENTIETH    CENTURY     343 

appreciative  devotee  than  himself.  Dr.  Allen  records 
that  in  his  college  days  Dr.  Brooks  was  deeply  interested 
in  the  Sibylline  Oracles,  and  that  he  '^  became  fascinated 
by  that  moment  in  ancient  history  when  Alexandria  led 
the  world  of  thought."  This  tendency  to  mystic  thought 
was  developed  in  Dr.  Brooks  to  the  higher  expression 
of  that  spirituality  which  relates  itself  to  practical  life 
in  guiding  and  controlling  its  issues.  There  is  every 
reason  that  the  name  of  Phillips  Brooks  should  be 
invested  with  moral  magic,  as  it  stands  pre-eminently 
for  the  practical  power  of  ideal  purposes. 

Spiritual  force  is  the  supreme  potency,  —  a  force  as 
much  greater  than  electricity  in  its  creative  power  as 
electricity  is  more  potent  than  the  dullest  clod,  —  and 
out  of  the  life  of  Bishop  Brooks  was  struck  the  electric 
spark  that  lighted  a  thousand  watchfires. 

"When  in  human  experience  the  psychic  life  is 
wholly  given  up  to  its  supreme  office  of  suggestion  and 
radiation,"  says  Professor  John  H.  Denison  in  his  very 
remarkable  work  on  "  Christ's  Idea  of  the  Supernatural," 
"  it  not  only  feeds  the  spirit  with  visions,  but,  exalted 
in  turn  by  the  spirit  and  surcharged  with  spirit  force,  it 
acts  upon  matter  in  a  direct,  causative  way  ;  it  radiates 
the  creative  causative  spirit."  All  the  great  work  of 
humanity  is  an  example  of  this  truth,  that  spiritual 
energy  creates  its  visible  expressions.  The  entire  envi- 
ronment of  the  universe  is  calculated  in  unerring  cor- 
respondence with  moral  perfection.  To  the  degree  in 
which  this  truth  is  realized,  life  is  successful  and  happy ; 
and  he  who  thus  lives  is  upborne  by  invincible  powers. 


344  BOSTON   DAYS 


The  stars  in  their  courses  fight  for  him.  The  winds  are 
his  messengers,  and  the  clouds  his  chariot.  To  the 
degree  in  which  he  falls  below  the  moral  standard,  he 
encounters  friction  and  trial.  We  talk  of  this  life  and 
the  next,  but  there  is  only  one  life;  and,  as  Bishop 
Brooks  once  said,  "  Death  is  not  the  end  of  life,  but  an 
event  in  life." 

Spirituality  of  life  is  a  condition,  not  a  creed ;  a  ser- 
vice, and  not  a  spectacle ;  a  life  and  not  a  litany.  The 
great  problem  of  life  to  all  is  :  How  shall  one  grow  in 
sympathy,  and  tenderness,  in  generosity,  and  in  consider- 
ation ?  How  shall  one  feed  on  high  thought  and  noble 
aims  ?  How  shall  one  be  swift  to  discern  and  to  avail 
himself  of  those  opportunities  for  usefulness  to  others 
which  are  the  best  channels  of , his  own  growth  ?  How 
shall  one  hold  clear  and  close  relation  with  the  divine 
energy  ? 

"  Be  one  of  the  conquerors  ! "  said  Balzac.  "  The  uni- 
verse belongs  to  him  who  wills  and  loves  and  prays ; 
but  he  must  will,  he  mjist  love,  he  must  pray  —  in  a 
word,  he  must  possess  wisdom,  force,  and  faith  ! " 

All  phases  of  progress  —  art,  painting,  sculpture, 
architecture,  and  poetry,  the  mysticism  of  Emerson,  the 
speculation  of  to-day  —  had  no  more  sympathetic  sharer 
than  Phillips  Brooks.  His  attitude  toward  all  modern 
phenomena  was  respectful  in  its  questioning  and  in  its 
readiness  to  accept  any  real  genuine  aid.  He  saw  that 
the  dominant  note  of  the  age  was  touched  in  its  search 
for  spiritual  truth.  "  Learning  may  have  its  traditional 
dangers^"  he  would  say,  "but   their  cure  lies  not  in 


DAWN   OF   THE   TWENTIETH    CENTURY     345 

ignorance  ;  life  itself  has  its  dangers,  but  their  cure  lies 
not  in  suicide." 

Dr.  Brooks  had  served  in  his  office  as  bishop  of  the 
diocese  but  fifteen  months  when  he  was  called  to  the 
Unseen  World.  On  the  day  of  the  burial  (Jan.  26, 
1893)  the  people  were  astir  from  six  in  the  morning 
until  the  shadows  of  the  early  winter  twilight  fell  over 
the  lily-laden  mound  in  Mount  Auburn  where  all  that 
was  mortal  of  the  dead  prelate  was  reverently  laid. 
During  the  ceremonies  at  the  church  business  was  sus- 
pended, stores  and  offices  generally  closed,  and  the  busy 
streets  bore  a  deserted  look. 

Within  Trinity  the  services  were  as  beautiful  as  they 
were  simple.  The  chancel  was  a  dream  of  Paradise  in 
its  great  cross  of  Annunciation  lilies  against  a  full  back- 
ground of  palms  and  greenery.  The  masses  of  flowers,  — 
lilies,  roses,  and  one  wreath  of  scarlet  carnations  (for 
the  Harvard  colors,  the  crimson),  included  a  book  of 
w^hite  rose-buds  with  "  The  Light  of  the  World  "  writ- 
ten across  in  purple  immortelles.  The  casket,  covered 
with  lilies  and  palm  branches  tied  with  royal  purple, 
was  borne  by  eight  Harvard  men,  —  young  athletes 
chosen  for  the  sacred  honor.  It  was  followed  by  the 
honorary  pall-bearers  from  among  the  most  distin- 
guished men  of  Boston.  The  long  procession  of  sur- 
pliced  priests,  comprising  all  the  clergy  of  the  diocese 
and  visiting  clergy,  marched  through  the  cloisters  and 
down  the  broad  aisle  to  the  chancel,  while  within  the 
altar  waited  a  group  of  bishops,  and  the  scene  strangely 
like    that    of    the    consecration    of    Dr.   Brooks    as 


346  BOSTON   DAYS 


bishop,  fifteen  months  before.  During  this  service 
memorial  services  were  also  held  in  a  neighboring 
Baptist  church  by  its  pastor,  the  Rev.  Dr.  Philip  Moxom, 
and  in  the  new  "  Old  South  "  Congregational  Church 
by  the  Rev.  George  A.  Gordon.  All  distinctions  of 
creed  and  sect  were  obliterated,  and  ^^  Our  Bishop  " 
was  the  expression  on  the  lips  of  those  of  all  denomi- 
nations and  of  those  of  no  denomination  at  all. 

The  last  service  seemed  to  be  a  sacred  festival  of  life 
rather  than  lamentation  for  death.  As  the  casket  under 
its  royal  purple  pall  laden  with  lilies  and  palms  was 
borne  from  Trinity  on  the  shoulders  of  the  young 
Harvard  men,  the  sun  suddenly  shone  out  from  the 
clouds  of  a  gray  day,  lighting  up  the  pictured  windows 
in  radiant  glory,  while  the  triumphal  music  of  the 
immortal  hymn  filled  the  air :  — 

"  For  all. Thy  saints  that  in  Thy  glory  rest." 

Outside  in  Copley  Square  thirty  thousand  people 
waited  for  hours  and  reverently  united  in  repeating  the 
Lord's    Prayer.       Thirty    thousand    voices  joined    in 

singing :  — 

"  0  God,  our  help  in  ages  past, 
Our  hope  in  years  to  come." 

Amid  the  great  assemblage  there  was  a  general 
recognition  of  the  truth  so  forcibly  expressed  by  the 
beloved  bishop  that 

"  Death  is  not  tlie  end  of  life  but  an  event  in  life." 

The  funeral  cortege  to  Mount  Auburn  numbered  six 
hundred  carriages,   and   on  its   way   made  a    detour 


DAWN   OF   THE   TWENTIETH    CENTURY     347 

through  the  grounds  of  Harvard,  where  two  thousand 
undergraduates  stood  on  either  side  with  bared  and 
bowed  heads  as  the  long  procession  passed. 

When  Dr.  Brooks  resigned  his  rectorship  to  accept 
the  work  of  the  Episcopate,  Trinity  Church  invited  the 
Rev.  Dr.  E.  Winchester  Donald,  of  New  York,  to  be- 
come his  successor.  Dr.  Donald's  ministry  has  been  of 
a  noble  order,  and  one  phase  of  his  thought  has  found 
literary  expression  in  a  book  called  '^  The  Expansion 
of  Religion,"  —  a  collection  of  the  notable  lectures 
which  he  delivered  before  the  Ijowell  Institute.  The 
succession  of  Dr.  Donald  to  the  rectorship  has  been 
rendered  the  more  tender  in  ties  between  people  and 
pastor  in  that  Dr.  Donald  was  the  beloved  friend  of 
Dr.  Brooks,  who  earnestly  hoped  he  would  accept  the 
invitation  to  Trinity.  Fortunate,  indeed,  is  the  church 
in  securing  the  noble  ministry  of  its  present  rector,  so 
splendidly  endowed,  not  only  with  learning,  culture, 
and  profound  intellectual  genius,  but  also  with  those 
still  rarer  qualities  of  insight,  sympathy,  and  vision. 

In  his  commemorative  address  on  Bishop  Brooks,  Dr. 
Donald  thus  finely  presented  the  results  of  the  great 
work  of  his  predecessor :  — 

''Phillips  Brooks  opened  the  doors  of  the  Episcopal 
Church  to  thousands  who  had  long  and  honestly  regarded 
her  as  too  stiff  and  formal  and  foreign  an  ecclesiasticism 
for  a  genuinely  alert,  spiritual  nature  to  live  in.  The 
years,  as  they  go  by,  only  reveal  more  clearly  how  great 
were  his  services  to  our  church,  simply  as  an  ecclesiastic. 
He  made  the  Church  American  in  her  essential  charac- 


348  BOSTON   DAYS 


ter,  and  stripped  off  the  last  remaining  semblance  of 
an  exotic.  It  will  never  be  thought  wonderful  that 
his  spirit  lives  in  Trinity  Church,  and  it  would  be  a 
reversal  of  all  spiritual  history  if  the  grave  in  Mount 
Auburn  treasured  all  of  him  that  was  ever  vital.  No ! 
His  great  example  still  stimulates  emulation,  his  faith 
in  Christ  as  his  Saviour  —  the  only  faith  once  for  all 
delivered  to  the  saints  —  has  been  transmitted,  and  we 
find  it  easier  to  believe  because  he  once  lived." 

The  life  of  the  great  and  beloved  bishop  stood  con- 
spicuously for  the  great  truth,  —  that  the  life  of  the 
spirit  is  the  only  life  v^orth  living ;  that  it  may  be  as 
truly  lived  in  the  midst  of  the  restless  activities  of  the 
day,  in  the  busy  haunts  of  men,  as  in  a  monk's  cell/'or 
on  the  lonely  heights  of  Mt.  Carmel.  Furthermore,  the 
life  of  Phillips  Brooks  is  an  unanswerable  testimony 
that  this  life  of  the  spirit  may  be  so  lived  as  to  be  in 
touch  with  the  world's  activities,  to  be  in  familiar  and 
friendly  relations  with  men  of  business  and  affairs,  and 
to  maintain  nmtual  respect.  His  life  speaks  with  a 
thousand  tongues  to  tell  us  the  more  spiritually  ideal 
life  is,  the  more  truly  practical  and  helpful  it  may  be. 

An  interesting  feature  in  the  Boston  life  of  the  last 
decades  of  the  Nineteenth  century  was  the  organization 
of  the  "  Society  to  Encourage  Study  at  Home,"  founded 
by  Anna  Eliot  Ticknor,  the  daughter  of  George  Ticknor, 
the  Spanish  professor  at  Harvard  and  the  author  of  a 
history  of  Spanish  literature.  In  1830  Professor  Ticknor 
bought  the  house  at  the  corner  of  Beacon  and  Park 
streets,  which  already  had  a  history,  one  association  of 


DAWN   OF   THE   TWENTIETH    CENTURY     349 

it  being  that  it  was  the  house  where  Lafayette  was 
entertained  during  his  visit  to  Boston.  Here  Professor 
Ticknor  lived  until  his  death,  in  1871.  The  march  of 
trade  pre-empted  the  house  and  forced  his  daughter  to 
transfer  her  household  gods  to  a  new  home  on  Marl- 
borough Street.  The  life  in  the  Ticknor  home  was 
that  of  literary  and  social  prominence.  The  narratives 
that  come  down  of  that  leisurely  life  of  the  first  half 
of  the  century  in  Boston  reveal  its  forcible  contrast 
with  the  rush  of  the  present.  These  were  the  years 
when  people  still  held  to  somewhat  primitive  customs  ; 
when  there  was  leisure  for  culture  and  for  the  real 
companionship  which  "  society "  does  not  always 
supply.  The  art  of  conversation  flourished  —  one 
which  is  not  invariably  among  the  fine  arts  of  the  pres- 
ent. New  books  were  events,  and  were  much  talked 
over.  In  this  atmosphere  of  leisurely  thought  Miss 
Ticknor  grew  up  and  to  her  exquisite  literary  culture 
she  added  something  of  the  passion  of  the  philanthro- 
pist. "  The  Society  for  the  Encouragement  of  Study  at 
Home  "  was  founded  in  June  of  1873.  Its  nature  can 
best  be  described  as  an  ideal  university,  one  having 
no  material  form,  no  visible  expression,  no  location,  no 
codes  or  restrictions.  Virtually,  it  said  to  every  person 
who  wished  to  study  and  improve :  "  Begin ;  I  will 
loan  books  to  you ;  I  will  correspond  with  you ;  I  will 
teach  you  all  that  may  be  taught  by  letters." 

Here  was  a  gentlewoman  of  the  highest  social  recog- 
nition, a  woman  of  large  wealth,  of  liberal  tastes  and  of 
leisure,  who  wished  to  contribute  her  share  of  aid  to  the 


350  BOSTON   DAYS 


world.  Far  better  than  to  merely  give  money,  she  gave 
her  thouglit,  her  time,  her  cultm-c.  No  conceivable 
amount  of  checks  donated  to  organized  charities  could 
begin  to  equal  the  good  that  Miss  Ticknor  did  through 
this  extended  reaching  out  to  whomsoever  desired  to 
enjoy  these  privileges.  The  plan,  too,  was  self-limiting, 
self-distributive.  It  did  not  offer  benefits  where  they 
were  not  appreciated.  It  gave  to  all  who  responded. 
It  was  offered  freely  like  the  kingdom  of  heaven,  and  it 
is  a  question  if  ever  there  were  a  more  heave aly  benefi- 
cence. With  the  death  of  Miss  Ticknor,  the  society 
ceased  to  exist  and  its  collection  of  books  was  presented 
to  the  Public  Library. 

The  literary  fame  inseparable  from  the  name  of  Ticknor 
is  pleasantly  continued  by  a  young  and  gifted  writer^ 
Caroline  Ticknor,  the  granddaughter  of  the  noted  pub- 
lisher. Miss  Ticknor's  stories  abound  in  humor  and  are 
full  of  a  sunshiny  charm  that  fascinates  every  reader. 

One  of  the  great  works  done  during  the  last  quar- 
ter of  the  Nineteenth  century  in  higher  education  for 
women,  was  that  of  Elizabeth  Gary  Agassiz,  the  wife  of 
the  great  naturalist.  Mrs.  Agassiz  has  always  been  so 
deeply  occupied  in  the  essentials  of  the  work  itself  that 
she  has  not  encouraged  any  public  comment ;  but  it  is 
to  her  that  Radcliffe  College  practically  owes  its  exist- 
ence. There  was  organized  in  Boston  and  Cambridge, 
in  the  seventies,  a  society  for  the  collegiate  instruction 
of  women,  of  which  Mrs.  Agassiz  was  the  president. 
It  was  this  society  that  prevailed  upon  Harvard  profes- 
sors to  give  instruction  to  women  students,  and  thus 


DAWN   OF   THE   TWENTIETH    CENTURY     351 

led  to  the  establishment  of  what  was  so  long  known  as 
the  Harvard  "Annex."  Step  by  step  the  innovation 
went  forward.  It  gained  by  excellence  and  not  by 
exhortation.  Finally,  in  1894,  a  charter  was  obtained, 
and  the  "  Annex  "  became  a  woman's  college,  —  Mrs. 
Agassiz,  President  Eliot,  Prof.  Chas.  Eliot  Norton,  Pro- 
fessor Goodwin,  Professor  Childs,  and  others  leading  the 
movement.  Many  thought  at  the  time  that  it  should 
bear  the  name  of  Agassiz  College.  Mrs.  Agassiz  pre- 
ferred the  present  name,  which  was  suggested  in  a 
curious  way.  Anne  RadclilFe,  of  England,  —  afterward 
Lady  Moulson,  —  had  given  to  Harvard  the  first  scholar- 
ship the  college  had  ever  received  from  a  woman.  The 
fact  came  to  light  accidentally  (only  that  such  accidents 
are  doubtless  due  to  direction  and  not  to  chance) 
in  papers  that  disclosed  the  fact  to  a  student  who 
was  searching  in  the  library  for  something  quite 
different. 

Radclifib  will  become  to  women  what  Johns  Hopkins 
is  to  men,  —  a  special  place  for  post-graduate  work,  with 
every  facility  for  the  most  advanced  research  into  astron- 
omy, physics,  art,  literature,  and  languages.  RadcliiFe 
will,  in  time,  and  in  no  very  distant  future,  inaugurate  a 
new  standard  of  culture  for  American  women,  one  whose 
influence  will  be  national  and  all-pervading. 

The  companionship  and  influence  of  such  a  woman  as 
Mrs.  Agassiz  is  of  inestimable  advantage  to  the  students 
of  Radcliflfe,  and  indeed  the  finer  forces  and  finer  influ- 
ences everywhere  prevail.  The  culture  is  symmetrical, 
and  not  the  least  of  the  advantages  of  this  college  is  the 


352  BOSTON   DAYS 


habit  of  good  society  which  the  young  women  acquire 
from  the  prevailing  associations. 

Boston,  like  Paris,  has  her  Quartier  Latin,  where 
the  most  interesting  things  happen.  There  is  a  semi- 
Bohemian  region  in  which  are  located  several  studio 
buildings  and  other  artistic  or  semi-literary  headquarters, 
which  is  a  part  of  the  city  that  is  very  much  alive.  On 
the  new  land,  the  buildings  all  new,  it  is  yet  adjacent 
to  and  adjoining  the  old  part  of  the  city.  It  is  not  far 
distant,  geographically,  from  the  fashionable  portion ;  it 
is  within  a  half  dozen  blocks  of  Commonwealth  Avenue, 
of  Beacon  Street ;  but  while  these  thoroughfares  are 
monotonously  quiet,  with  the  decorous  rows  of  private 
residences,  broken  now  and  then  by  an  apartment  hotel 
that  vies  with  palaces  in  luxurious  fitting-up,  this 
artistic  Latin-like  quarter  abounds  in  students  who 
pour  out  of  its  clubrooms  or  restaurants  in  great 
numbers ;  with  artists,  men  and  women,  who  perhaps 
live  in  their  studios,  make  their  matutinal  coffee  over 
a  gas  stove,  and  dine  at  a  restaurant;  it  abounds  in 
lecturers;  in  the  followers  and  practitioners  of  occult 
science  and  mental  healing ;  in  spiritual  mediums  — 
what  you  will.  You  will  perhaps  be  accosted  on  the 
sidewalk  by  a  neatly  dressed  woman  with  refined 
courtesy  of  manner,  who  offers  you  a  card  bearing  the 
legend,  "Divine  Science  Home."  You  may  be  favored 
with  a  gratuitous  copy  of  "  The  Prophetic  Star-gazer ;  " 
you  may  be  gently  entreated  to  attend  a  lecture  on  the 
"  Science  of  Creation  from  the  Standpoint  of  Vibration  ; " 
or  invited  to  a  course  on  "  Psycho-Physics ; "  you  may 


DAWN   OF   THE   TWENTIETH    CENTURY     253 

be  asked  if  you  understand  "  mental  cliemistry  ; "  you 
may  be  invited  to  the  home  of  "Rest,  Recuperation, 
and  Regeneration ; "  you  may  be  informed  of  the 
private  lectures  given  by  Siddi  Mohammed  Tabier ; 
you  may  be  privileged  to  enter  into  the  mystic  atmos- 
phere of  the  "  Oriental  Circle,"  where  you  listen  to 
discourses  on  the  "  Gods  of  Egypt  and  the  Book  of 
the  Dead,"  "  The  Mahabharata  and  the  Ramayana," 
or  the  "  Reincarnation  of  the  Vedas."  Lecturers  in  this 
region  discuss  such  topics  as  "  Primal  Force,"  "■  The 
Bondage  of  Mortal  Sense/'  and  "  The  Elimination  of 
Death. "  A  daintily  gowned  young  woman  sitting  in  a 
club  parlor  in  this  region  was  asked  if  she  believed  in 
thought-transference.  "  Oh,  I  am  far  beyond  that,"  she 
replied  airily  ;  "  I  am  in  the  sphere  of  intense  vibrations." 
There  is  one  house  where  its  fair  mistress  proclaims 
herself  a  "  Daughter  of  the  Druids,"  and  where  she 
gathers  a  circle  of  the  faithful  about  her  on  afternoons 
and  lectures  to  them  on  "Symbolism."  She  has  a 
room  fitted  up  with  maps  and  charts  of  the  most  ex- 
traordinary description,  —  the  signs  of  the  zodiac  ;  the 
supposed  aspect  of  the  universe  at  different  periods  of 
creation ;  the  representation  of  man  in  various  evolu- 
tionary stages,  and  other  strange  figures  whose  signifi- 
cance eludes  the  ordinary  observer. 

"  I  feel,  indeed,  that  I  am  in  Boston  again,"  remarked 
a  Bostonian  who  had  just  returned  from  a  long 
residence  abroad.  "Think  of  being  stopped  on  the 
street  by  an  epigram.  I  met  Mr.  Alger,  and  he  said 
to  me,  '  I  have  an  original  epigram  I  will  give  you : 

23 


354>  BOSTON    DAYS 


Justice  is  the  highest  human  virtue  ;  but  disinterested- 
ness is  not  a  virtue,  it  is  the  highest  delight  of  a  noble 
order  of  mind.'  Now  when  I  am  stopped  on  the  street 
by  a  man  who  desires  to  give  me  an  epigram,  I  know 
that  I  am  in  Boston." 

The  mere  incidental  conversation  of  the  moment  is 
not  unfrequentlj  bewildering  to  the  un-Bostonian  mind. 
At  the  theatre  one  night,  in  a  pause  between  two  acts, 
the  question  was  asked  by  a  friend  :  — 

"  Do  you  know  So-and-so  ?  " 

"  Only  by  name,"  was  the  reply  ;  "  I  have  never  met 
him." 

"  I  saw  him  to-day,"  he  rejoined ;  '^  we  chanced  to 
meet  on  Temple  Place,  and  I  asked  him  if  he  believed 
in  the  personality  of  God  ?  He  said  he  never  had,  but 
he  had  thought  more  about  it  of  late,  and  I  feel  that 
he  is  coming  into  the  higher  thought." 

There  was  nothing  unusual  about  this  interlude,  and 
one  is  not  at  all  sure  that  if  he  had  not  been  absent 
from  Boston  for  a  long  time  it  would  even  have  im- 
pressed itself  enough  to  have  been  recorded  in  memory. 
When  constantly  steeped  in  Boston  life  one  becomes  so 
accustomed  to  having  theological  enigmas  propounded 
in  any  chance  meeting  on  the  street,  or  profound  prob- 
lems of  sociology,  art,  ethics  —  as  may  be  —  discussed 
on  a  street  car,  at  a  party,  or  in  the  interludes  of  play 
or  opera,  that  one  takes  it  all  for  granted.  At  all 
events,  Boston  is  Boston,  unique,  unparalleled  in  its 
social  flavor.  There  is  a  humorous  tradition  that 
Motley  and  Mrs.  Howe,  in  the  interludes  of  a  waltz. 


DAWN   OF   THE   TWENTIETH   CENTURY     355 

discussed  (and  very  ably)  the  problem  of  original  sin 
and  election,  but  to  what  degree  this  anecdote  is 
due  to  invention  rather  than  fact  is  open  to  speculation. 
With  better  claim  to  authenticity  is  the  narration  that 
Emerson  and  Margaret  Fuller  went  together  to  the  old 
Boston  Museum  to  see  Fanny  Elssler  dance,  and  that 
the  sibylline  Margaret  remarked,  "Waldo,  this  is 
poetry;"  to  which  the  seer  of  Concord  solemnly 
rejoined,  "  Margaret,  it  is  religion." 

There  is  indeed  a  keynote  to  Boston  life  touched  in 
these  little  anecdotes  which  illustrates  one  of  the  cur- 
rents of  speculative  thought.  ''  If  a  Trappist  monk 
should  come  to  this  city,  Boston  would  utilize  him  as 
a  lion,"  remarked  the  poet  and  novelist,  Katherine 
E.  Conway,  alluding  to  the  momentary  enthusiasm 
aroused  by  Father  Ignatius  in  the  garb  of  a  mediaeval 
monk,  who  added  to  the  ascetic  life  the  zeal  of  a 
Methodist  exhorter,  and  who,  with  his  closely  shaven 
head,  his  monk  robe  and  knotted  cord,  his  beads  and 
crucifix,  and  sandalled  feet,  made  a  striking  figure  as 
he  preached  to  the  crowds  that  gathered  to  hear  him. 

Boston  is  the  paradise  of  cranks,  albeit  there  may  not 
be  wanting  among  them  some  of  those  who  are  not 
wholly  devoid  of  some  device  to  turn  the  universe. 
Palmistry,  astrology,  card-reading,  crystal-gazing,  and 
every  sort  and  condition  of  soothsayer  receives  a  greater 
or  less  degree  of  patronage,  from  the  fashionable  palmist 
at  ten  dollars  for  an  half  hour's  consultation,  to  a 
*'  South  End"  card-reader  at  twenty-five  cents  an  hour. 
At  one  time  "  Cheiro  "  appeared,  establishing  himself  in 


356  BOSTON   DAYS 


a  suite  in  the  fashionable  Hotel  Brunswick,  where  he 
fitted  up  a  room  with  Egyptian  hangings  and  mystic 
emblems  into  which  all  Boston  poured,  eager  to  pay  its 
ten  dollars  for  twenty  minutes  with  the  seer  who  volun- 
teered to  lift  the  veil  from  futurity,  —  while  many  were 
turned  away,  daily,  forced  to  await  a  future  appointment ; 
and  through  all  degrees  of  life,  social  and  financial,  the 
interest  in  the  occult  is  manifested. 

Theosophy  was  first  introduced  into  Boston  by  a 
well-known  woman  of  letters  and  society  who,  on  her 
return  from  a  period  of  foreign  travel,  brought  with  her 
as  her  guest  for  the  winter  Mr,  Mohini  Mohun  Chatterji; 
the  noted  Hindoo.  A  limited  number  of  invited  friends 
met  on  three  evenings  a  week  in  her  library,  to  whom 
Mr.  Mohini  explained  the  Bhagavad  Gita  and  other 
sacred  writers  in  the  Sanscrit.  A  little  later  public 
societies  were  formed  for  the  study  of  Oriental  religion 
and  the  Theosophists  became  a  frankly  avowed  cult. 
Mrs.  Annie  Besant  arrived  from  London,  inspiring  great 
zeal  and  an  increasing  following  of  this  trend  of  specu- 
lation. Meantime,  Mr.  Sinnett's  "  Esoteric  Buddhism  " 
and  "The  Occult.  World"  appeared,  fairly  creating  a 
furore  in  the  universal  greeting  and  discussion  that  fol- 
lowed. Mrs.  Anna  Kingsford's  books,  "The  Perfect 
Way"  and  "  Clothed  with  the  Sun,"  deepened  and  ex- 
tended the  impress  made  by  the  sudden  awakening  to 
Oriental  study  and  speculation. 

Mrs.  Besant  was  the  avowed  disciple  of  Madame 
Blavatsky,  who,  with  impartial  fervor,  was  both  wor- 
shipped as  a  prophetess  and  denounced  as  an  impostor ; 


DAWN   OF   THE   TWENTIETH    CENTURY     357 

yet  happy  was  occult  Boston  when  it  crowded  a  hall  to 
listen  to  Annie  Besant,  arrayed  in  a  flowing  white  robe 
as  unique  as  that  of  an  Egyptian  seeress.  Mrs.  Besant 
gave  courses  of  lectures  on  ^^  Theosophy  and  Christi- 
anity," "Theosophy  and  Social  Problems/'  and  "The- 
osophy and  Present  Social  Conditions."  Apart  from 
any  acceptance  of  these  special  doctrines  there  was  always 
a  great  interest  in  hearing  Mrs.  Besant.  She  is  a  speaker 
of  strong  power,  intellectual,  logical,  and  with  a  finely 
trained  mind.  On  other  occasions  Mrs.  Besant  fasci- 
nated Boston  by  describing  to  her  audience  their  auras 
and  their  astral  bodies,  and  initiating  them  into  practical 
ways  and  means  of  making  sublunary  excursions  into 
the  astral  world.  The  subject  was  apparently  invested 
with  fascination,  and  profound  attention  characterized 
the  hearers. 

Another  of  these  festive  occasions  was  a  night  when 
"Swami  Yivakananda"  was  to  hold  forth  upon  the 
Karma  Yogi,  —  a  subject  that  absolutely  dominated 
the  attention  of  a  certain  cult  of  the  Bostonians. 

That  night  presented  a  curious  scene.  The  crowds 
of  people  that  had  lined  the  sidewalk  hastening  to  the 
Procopeia  Club  were  greater  than  its  rooms  could  hold. 
So  the  Allen  Gymnasium  across  the  street  was  hastily 
engaged,  and  the  people  thronged  in.  The  interior  was 
unfinished,  the  roof  sloping  up  with  the  bare  rafters 
and  beams  ;  the  walls  of  boards  un planed  and  unplas- 
tered,  and  from  the  rafters  were  depended  ropes  and 
chains  and  pulleys  hastily  pulled  up  above  the  heads  of 
the  audience  and  dangling  from  the  roof.     The  platform 


358  BOSTON   DAYS 


was  high,  and  on  it  was  a  primitive  desk  and  one  or  two 
chairs.  The  camp-chairs  with  which  the  room  was 
seated  were  instantly  pre-empted,  and  the  remainder  of 
the  crowd  bestowed  itself  as  best  it  might,  around  the 
walls  in  the  spaces  left.  It  overflowed  into  the  corridor 
and  sat  upon  the  stairs,  the  flight  being  simply  packed 
from  the  lower  step  to  the  top,  with  people  who  could 
see  nothing,  but  who  could,  perhaps,  if  sufficient  silence 
prevailed,  hear  the  speaker.  For  an  hour,  at  least,  be- 
fore the  meeting  was  announced  to  open,  the  crowd 
swept  in,  thronging  the  place  to  sufibcation. 

All  who  were  at  the  Chicago  Exposition  in  1893 
and  who  attended  the  Parliament  of  Religions,  will 
recall  the  Hindoo  monk  who  came  as  a  delegate,  Swami 
Vivekananda.  He  became  at  once  a  favorite,  socially 
and  otherwise,  and  in  the  years  immediately  follow- 
ing he  was  occupied  in  giving  courses  of  lectures  in 
Chicago,  Washington,  New  York  and  Boston.  In  the 
latter  city  he  gave  a  series  of  four  lectures  before  the 
Procopeia  Club  on  Bhakti  Yoga,  Realization,  The  Ideal 
of  a  Universal  Religion,  and  Readings  from  the  Sanscrit. 
The  eager  following  which  anything  occult  always  finds 
in  Boston  is  edifying.  It  is,  too,  one  of  the  signs  of  the 
times.  So  much  of  that  present  trend  of  speculative 
inquiry  and  discussion  which  is  in  the  air  to-day  and  is 
not  infrequently  designated  as  the  "new"  truth,  is 
simply  the  truth  as  old  as  Christianity,  as  old  as  the 
Vedas,  translated  into  new  terms.  The  phrase  very 
much  in  use,  —  "  going  into  the  silence,"  —  which  repre- 
sents a  very  real  and  vital  spiritual  experience,  is,  after 


DAWN   OF   THE   TWENTIETH    CENTURY     359 

all,  only  another  term  for  what  the  church  knows  as 
"  communion  with  God."  There  is  no  real  antagonism 
between  the  church  as  it  has  always  existed,  —  as  it 
exists  to-day,  —  and  the  utmost  spirituality  of  thought 
and  inquiry,  although  it  is  perhaps  true  that  the  new 
terms  into  which  the  very  teaching  of  the  church  has 
been  translated  do  serve  to  popularize  those  truths  and 
bring  them  in  a  more  vital  way  before  the  people. 
Nothing,  however,  is  more  to  be  deprecated  than  that 
there  should  spring  up  the  slightest  approach  to  the 
attitude  of  considering  the  church  merely  as  a  formal 
institution,  and  life,  in  the  higher  spiritual  sense,  as 
outside  it ;  to  speak  of  "  outgrowing  "  the  church ! 
Who  is  there,  indeed,  who  has  even  grown  to  the  full 
stature,  the  infinite  possibilities  ofibred  in  any  church  of 
whatever  name,  sect,  or  form  ?  If  all  this  larger  interest 
which  includes  much  genuine  and  vital  thought,  would 
pour  itself  into  the  church,  finding  there  its  leadership 
and  its  strength,  we  might  have,  indeed,  another  '^  new 
awakening,"  not  less  searching  than  that  of  the  day  of 
Jonathan  Edwards. 

The  special  teaching  for  which  the  work  of  Swami 
Vivekananda  stands  is  the  explanation  and  interpreta- 
tion of  the  Yedantic  philosophy.  His  teaching  included 
such  passages  as  the  following,  taken  from  one  of  his 
lectures  :  — 

"The  Karma  Yogi  asks  why  should  you  require  any 
motive  to  work  ?  Be  beyond  motives.  '  To  work  you 
have  the  right,  but  not  to  the  fruits  thereof.'  Man  can 
train  himself  to  that,  says  the  Karma  Y'ogi.     Any  work 


360  BOSTON   DAYS 


that  is  done  with  a  motive,  instead  of  making  us  free, 
which  is  the  goal,  makes  one  more  chain  for  our  feet.  So 
the  only  way  is  to  give  up  all  fruits  of  the  work ;  be  non- 
attached.  Know  that  this  world  is  not  ourselves  or 
ourselves  this  world ;  that  we  are  really  not  the  body ; 
that  we  really  do  not  work.  We  are  the  self  eternally 
at  peace.  Why  should  we  be  bound  by  anything? 
We  must  not  weep.  There  is  no  weeping  for  the 
soul.  .  .  .  He  works  best  who  works  without  any  motive 
power,  neither  for  money  nor  anything  else,  and  when 
a  man  can  do  that  he  will  be  a  Buddha,  and  out  of  him 
will  come  the  power  to  work  in  such  a  manner  as  to 
transform  the  world.  This  is  the  very  ideal  of  Karma 
Yogi." 

The  great  movement  under  the  general  name  of 
Christian  Science  was  inaugurated  in  Boston  and  had 
its  chief  growth  and  development  during  the  last  quar- 
ter of  the  Nineteenth  century.  It  is  one  that  comprises 
many  remarkable  features. 

A  very  scholarly  and  important  work  was  initiated  in 
the  modern  Athens  by  the  Society  of  Psychical  Research 
under  the  direction  of  its  accomplished  secretary,  Dr. 
Richard  Hodgson,  Professor  William  James,  who  has 
been  one  of  the  Presidents  of  the  society ;  Rev.  Dr. 
Minot  Judson  Savage,  and  a  large  number  of  scholars 
and  thinkers,  including  many  of  the  most  distinguished 
men  and  women  in  the  country,  have  become  active 
members  of  this  society,  which  may  be  said  to  have 
scientifically  demonstrated  the  actual  nature  of  life  after 
the  change  we  call  death.  Of  this  work  Dr.  Hodgson 
says :  — 


DAWN   OF   THE   TWENTIETH    CENTURY     361 

"  My  interest  in  psychical  research  is  greater  than  ever, 
and  it  seems  to  me  highly  probable  that  before  many 
years  have  elapsed  there  will  be  much  new  and  valuable 
testimony  before  the  world  as  the  result  of  the  labors  of 
our  society  in  favor  of  the  spiritualistic  claim  that  it  is 
possible  for  our  departed  friends,  under  special  condi- 
tions, to  make  their  continued  existence  known  to  us. 
It  is  my  own  conviction  that  such  communication  is 
possible,  though  I  hold  that  it  is  not  nearly  as  frequent 
as  most  spiritualists  suppose." 

Professor  Dolbear  of  Tufts  College,  whose  study  in 
the  nature  of  the  ether  has  resulted  in  discoveries  most 
important  to  science,  has  demonstrated  a  great  range  of 
new  possibilities,  contributing  incidentally  to  the  com- 
prehension of  psychic  problems.  Of  the  possibilities  of 
the  ether  we  find  Professor  Dolbear  saying  :  — 

"  However  large  is  the  physical  universe,  and  however 
exact  such  relations  as  we  have  established  may  be,  it  is 
daily  becoming  more  certain  that  we  have  to  do  with  a 
factor  — the  ether  —  the  properties  of  which  we  vainly 
strive  to  interpret  in  terms  of  matter,  the  undiscovered 
properties  of  which  ought  to  warn  every  one  against  the 
danger  of  strongly  asserting  what  is  possible  and  what  is 
impossible  in  the  nature  of  things.  With  the  electro- 
magnetic theory  of  light  now  just  established,  and  the 
vortex-ring  theory  of  matter  still  sub-judice  but  with  daily 
increasing  evidence  in  its  favor,  one  may  now  be  sure 
that  matter  itself  is  more  wonderful  than  any  philosopher 
ever  thought.  Its  possibilities  may  have  been  vastly 
underrated." 

In  reference  to  certain  psychic  phenomena  Dr.  Wil- 
liam James  has  said :  — 


^  362  BOSTON   DAYS 


"  In  all  these  cases  we  are,  it  seems  to  me,  fairly  forced 
to  choose  between  a  physical  and  a  moral  miracle.  The 
physical  miracle  is  that  knowledge  may  come  to  a  person 
otherwise  than  by  the  usual  use  of  eyes  and  ears.  The 
moral-miracle  kind  of  deceit  is  so  perverse  and  successful 
as  to  find  no  parallel  in  usual  experience.  In  the  medium- 
ship  of  Mrs.  Piper,  the  medium  who  has  for  some  years 
been  under  the  auspices  and  control  of  the  Society,  there 
are  constantly  in  evidence  facts  of  experience  that  leave 
the  most  critical  investigator  without  any  conceivable 
hypothesis  to  fall  back  upon  other  than  the  genuineness  of 
communication  from  the  life  beyond." 

It  has  been  the  province  of  psychic  science  to  project  its 
discoveries  of  the  nature  of  the  life  beyond  this.  Religion, 
in  its  usual  teaching,  gives  the  great  truths  in  mystical 
and  figurative  phrase.  To  recognize  the  Divine  Father 
and  Jesus  the  Christ,  and  to  know  that  He  is  the  way, 
the  truth,  and  the  life ;  to  accept  the  truth  of  the  im- 
mortal nature  of  the  soul,  —  this  is  the  supremely  im- 
portant matter ;  but,  as  intelligent  beings,  who,  by  the 
law  of  evolution,  are  developing  into  constantly  higher 
states,  it  may  be  as  much  a  part  of  the  true  province  of 
knowledge  to  extend  the  domain  of  investigation  into 
the  forces  of  spirit,  as  well  as  into  those  of  nature.  It 
is  no  less  reverent,  surely,  to  inquire  into  the  nature 
and  destiny  of  the  soul  than  it  is  to  inquire  into  the 
nature  and  use  of  the  divine  creation.  The  intelligent 
and  faithful  student  of  psychic  science  is  working 
toward  the  discovery  of  the  new  immaterial  world,  as 
Columbus  was  toward  the  discovery  of  a  new  continent. 
In  fact,  as  the  two  hemispheres  of  the  East  and  the 


DAWN   OF   THE   TWENTIETH   CENTURY     363 

West  correspond,  so  are  this  world  and  that  just  beyond 
death  in  correspondence.  The  infinite  progression  of 
the  soul  is  in  states  or  series  of  lives.  The  one  lying 
just  beyond  this  does  not  differ  from  ours  so  greatly  as 
has  been  believed.  It  is  not  a  vague  region  somewhere 
in  inconceivable  space,  where  inconceivable  beings  wave 
palm  branches ;  but  a  world  differing  from  this  only 
in  degree,  and  by  a  difference  hardly  more  marked  than 
that  which  lies  between  the  New  England  of  1620  and 
of  1900.  If  one  should  dwell  for  a  moment  upon  this 
land  as  the  Pilgrims  found  it  and  on  the  meagre 
resources  up  to  1800  and  later,  as  compared  with  the 
resources  and  activities  of  the  past  half  century  and 
more  especially  of  those  of  the  present  decade,  he  will 
realize  how  the  constantly  growing  control  of  higher 
forces  of  nature  transforms  the  life  of  man. 

Psychic  science  demonstrates  that  those  who  have 
been  liberated  into  that  larger  life  by  the  process  we 
name  death  find  themselves  in  a  realm  where  will  and 
thought  are  forces.  To  will  is  to  accomplish.  The 
ethereal  body  is  no  longer  subject  to  the  law  of  gravita- 
tion. It  is  under  the  law  of  attraction.  Communica- 
tion is  carried  on  by  that  subtle  and  swift  spiritual 
process  of  thought  transference,  or  telepathy,  which  is 
the  spirit  language  and  of  which  those  in  this  world 
are  already  gaining  some  knowledge.  In  this  ethereal 
world  a  life  similar  to  the  present  only  higher  in  degree, 
is  lived.  There  are  libraries,  temples  of  worship,  halls  of 
music,  and  art.  There  are  the  occupations  of  reading, 
writing,  study,  invention.     The  law  of  service  prevails. 


364  BOSTON   DAYS 


Dr.  John  Fiske  was  one  of  the  most  important  and 
distinguished  thinkers  whose  influence  was  a  determin- 
ing one  during  the  last  quarter  of  the  Nineteenth  century. 

His  literary  life  falls  easily  into  two  "  states  "  as  dis- 
tinct from  each  other  as  a  painter's  —  that  of  a  com- 
mentator on  ethical  philosophy  which  occupied  him  for 
the  twenty  years  between  1860-1880,  and  that  of  an 
historical  and  political  ^vriter  in  the  remaining  years 
of  his  life.  It  is  by  the  latter  work  that  he  is  the  more 
widely  known,  because  he  brought  to  bear  an  origi- 
nality, an  initiative,  and  an  assured  energy  on  the  latter 
that  is  less  evident  in  the  former.  Dr.  Fiske  had  an 
affinity  for  concrete  facts.  He  was  much  more  at  home 
in  the  realm  of  the  visible  than,  in  that  of  the  invisible, 
and  while  his  intellect  was  of  too  clear  and  fine  an 
order  for  him  ever  to  deny  or  ignore  the  cloud  of  wit- 
nesses, he  was  still  more  easily  in  touch  with  things 
seen  than  with  those  unseen. 

Three  of  the  most  brilliant  men  in  modern  philosophy 
are  Dr.  William  James,  Prof.  Josiah  Royce,  and  (the 
late)  Frederic  W.  H.  Myers.  Mr.  Myers  was  also  en- 
dowed with  the  poetic  gift,  and  he  had,  pre-eminently, 
the  scientific  imagination,  with  a  charm  of  mind  and 
manner  that  always  wrought  its  spell.  These  three 
men  are  all  of  the  intuitive  order.  They  have  divination. 
With  Dr.  Fiske,  his  power  was  that  of  honest  labor, 
of  study  and  research,  —  intense  persistence,  —  industry 
rather  than  inspiration,  and  one  remembers  : 

"  All  aspiration  is  a  toil ;  but  inspiration  cometh  from  above, 
And  is  no  labor." 


DAWN   OF   THE   TWENTIETH    CENTURY     365 

There  can  be  no  question,  however,  but  that  Dr.  Fiske 
rendered  valuable  service  to  philosophy  and  even  to 
some  phases  of  spiritual  truth,  of  whose  claim  to  ac- 
ceptance he  was  by  no  means  assured.  His  mind  was 
singularly  free  from  prejudice,  open  to  truth  wherever 
he  might  find  it,  and  his  profound  and  extensive 
scholarship  gave  him  the  splendid  force  of  his  perfectly 
trained  faculties. 

The  philosophical  work  of  Dr.  Fiske  is  deeply  in- 
teresting. Involving  no  original  discovery  —  as  Mr. 
Frederic  Myers  made,  for  instance,  in  regard  to  the 
^'  subliminal "  nature  of  man  —  it  offers  a  series  of 
creative  interpretation  of  Darwin  and  Spencer  and 
Huxley  that  has,  perhaps,  contributed  more  to  popu- 
larize philosophy  than  has  the  work  of  any  other 
single    writer. 

Dr.  Fiske  took  the  discoveries  formulated  by  Darwin, 
Spencer,  and  Huxley,  breathed  into  them  a  still  higher 
and  deeper  truth,  stamped  it  with  the  impress  of  his  own 
vigorous  thought,  and  put  it  into  general  circulation. 
Is  not  this  one  of  the  greatest  of  services  to  con- 
temporary progress? 

One  of  the  fine  passages  from  Dr.  Fiske  is  as 
follows :  — 

"One  of  the  greatest  contributions  ever  made  to 
scientific  knowledge  is  Herbert  Spencer's  profound  and 
luminous  exposition  of  life  as  the  continuous  adjustment 
of  inner  relations  to  outer  relations.  The  extreme  sim- 
plicity of  the  subject  in  its  earliest  illustrations  is  such 
that  the  student  at  first  hardly  suspects  the  wealth  of 


366  BOSTON   DAYS 


knowledge  toward  which  it  is  pointing  the  way.  .  .  .  All 
life  upon  the  globe,  whether  physical  or  psychical,  repre- 
sents the  continuous  adjustment  of  inner  to  outer  relations. 
The  degree  of  life  is  low  or  high,  according  as  the  corre- 
spondence between  internal  or  external  relations  is  simple 
or  complex,  limited  or  extensive,  partial  or  complete, 
perfect  or  imperfect." 

There  are  other  passages,  however,  in  the  context 
with  which  the  idealist  would  hardly  agree,  as  when 
Dr.  Fiske  says  that  "  a  true  theory  is  an  adjustment  of 
one's  ideas  to  the  external  facts  and  that  such  adjust- 
ments are  helps  to  successful  living."  Where  would 
progress  lie  if  one  merely  adjusted  his  ideas  to  the 
external  facts?  That  is  mediaeval.  If  America  had 
adjusted  her  ideas  to  external  facts  we  should  still  be 
travelling  by  stage-coach  and  canals.  It  is  only  as 
external  facts  are  adjusted  to  our  ideas  that  man 
advances.  Thought  must  shape  life.  The  idea  must 
work  outward  and  externalize  and  incarnate  itself. 

The  following  paragraph  from  Dr.  Fiske  embodies  his 
fine  creative  interpretation  of  evolution  :  — 

"  So  far  as  our  knowledge  of  nature  goes,  the  whole 
momentum  of  it  carries  us  onward  to  the  conclusion  that 
the  unseen  world,  as  the  objective  term  in  a  relation  of 
fundamental  importance  that  has  co-existed  with  the 
whole  career  of  mankind,  has  a  real  existence,  and  it  is 
but  following  out  the  analogy  to  regard  that  unseen  world 
as  the  theatre  where  the  ethical  process  is  destined  to 
reach  its  full  consummation.  The  lesson  of  evolution  is 
that  through  all  these  weary  ages  the  human  soul  has  not 
been  cherishing  in  religion   a  delusive  phantom,  but,  in 


i 


DAWN   OF   THE   TWENTIETH    CENTURY     367 

spite  of  seemingly  endless  groping  and  stumbling,  it  has 
been  rising  to  the  recognition  of  its  essential  kinship  with 
the  ever-living  God.  Of  all  the  implications  of  the  doc- 
trine of  evolution  with  regard  to  man,  I  believe  the  very 
deepest  and  strongest  to  be  that  which  asserts  the  ever- 
lasting reality  of  religion." 

There  is  a  vast  amount  of  original  discovery  that  is 
not  so  valuable  a  contribution  to  social  progress  as  is 
this  carrying  the  theory  of  evolution  on  to  higher  planes 
by  Dr.  Fiske,  and  it  may  be  that  in  this  single  respect 
lies  the  highest,  the  most  useful,  and  the  most  perma- 
nent value  of  his  honored  life. 

Through  an  unforeseen  circumstance  Dr.  Fiske  was 
lead  into  the  field  of  historical  inquiry.  In  his  early 
life  when  engaged  in  rather  miscellaneous  work  as 
tutor  in  Harvard,  and  delighting  his  friends  socially 
with  his  musical  talent,  Mr.  Fiske  one  day  called 
on  Mrs.  Hemenway  for  a  confidential  talk  regarding 
ways  and  means.  How  many  of  the  aspirants  after 
nobler  achievement  went  to  this  remarkable  woman  for 
counsel  and  suggestion  only  the  recording  angel  could 
tell.  "  To  live  —  to  have  spiritual  force  —  is  the 
great  thing"  was  one  of  her  favorite  sayings;  and 
another  which  she  made  a  guiding  rule  of  her  life  was  : 
"  God  thinks  of  all  beings,  so  should  we ;  a  lovely  spirit 
radiates."  She  was  herself  always  hospitable  to  all 
genuine  effort  and  aspiration;  and  in  her  talk  with  Mr. 
Fiske  she  sought  the  keynote  of  his  interest  and  of 
his  ability.  She  discussed  with  him  his  ethical  ideas, 
—  at  which  Harvard  then  looked  askance,  —  his  views 


368  BOSTON   DAYS 


of  society  and  its  betterment,  his  general  outlook  on 
life.  Finally  she  told  him  of  her  deep  interest  in  the 
"  Old  South  "  work,  —  its  courses  of  lectures  and 
general  activity  in  promoting  and  diflPusing  historical 
knowledge,  and  invited  him  to  write  and  deliver  an 
historical  lecture,  adding  that  he  should  receive  $500 
for  it. 

Mr.  Fiske  instantly  declined  —  declined  perforce,  he 
said;  assuring  her  that  he  had  neither  taste  nor  inclina- 
tion toward  historic  themes,  that  history  was  entirely 
out  of  his  line,  and  that,  in  short,  such  a  work  was  too 
foreign  to  his  nature  to  be  possible.  But  Mrs.  Hemen- 
way  always  believed  in  the  great  truth  that  there  should 
be  faith  in  the  possibility  of  impressing  others  with  the 
highest  views.  She  was  patient  because  she  had  the 
vision.  She  caught  the  outlook  because  she  lived 
always  on  the  heights.  So  she  urged  the  young  man  to 
go  home  and  try  his  hand  at  the  historical  lecture. 
Still  protesting  that  he  could  not,  he  took  his  departure. 
But  he  did  try;  he  succeeded  to  Mrs.  Hemenway's 
satisfaction  if  not  to  his  own,  and  she  urged  him  to 
follow  this  effort  with  a  second  one.  From  this  time  he 
set  forth  on  his  excursions  into  this  new  field  of  litera- 
ture with  the  result  that  he  achieved  an  unqualified 
success. 

Dr.  Fiske  will  perhaps  be  most  permanently  remem- 
bered as  the  thinker  who  has  bridged  the  gulf  between 
the  Darwinian  theory  of  evolution  and  the  spiritual 
philosophy  of  Hegel,  Kant,  and  Emerson.  In  one  lec- 
ture he  said :  "  If  the  cosmic  force  of  the  universe  were 


DAWN   OF   THE   TWENTIETH    CENTURY     369 

placed  on  one  side  and  the  psychic  force  of  man  on 
the  other,  the  latter  would  outweigh  the  former." 

The  home  of  Mrs.  Mary  Hemenway  was  in  Mount 
Vernon  Street,  on  Beacon  Hill,  —  a  large,  old-fashioned 
house  of  a  half  century  ago,  with  spacious,  sunny 
rooms,  in  which  were  gathered  many  rare  and  beauti- 
ful treasures  of  art  in  paintings,  sculpture,  and  bric-a- 
brac.  The  family  keep  her  rooms  very  much  as  she  left 
them,  and  her  beautiful  presence  still  seems  to  pervade 
the  house. 

She  is  among  those  who,  though  vanished  into  the 
unknown,  are  held  in  daily  remembrance  in  Boston. 
Many  of  the  perpetual  benefactions  that  go  on  quietly 
and  regularly  year  after  year,  with  as  little  parade  about 
them  as  the  movement  of  the  solar  system,  are  due  to 
Mrs.  Hemenway.  One  of  these  is  the  system  of  "  Old 
South "  lectures,  as  they  are  locally  known  —  a  series 
given  each  summer,  in  the  Old  South  Church.  Mrs. 
Hemenway  founded  these  lectures,  making  them  free 
to  all,  —  the  necessary  restriction  of  the  audience  being 
that  each  applicant  apply,  in  his  own  handwriting 
with  a  stamped  and  addressed  envelope  for  a  course 
ticket,  which  is  sent  by  return  post.  If  ever  there  was 
literally  a  power  behind  a  throne  it  was  Mrs.  Hemen- 
way. The  throne  was  her  multitude  of  good  works ; 
the  power  was  herself.  She  had  a  very  potent  rather 
than  prominent  individuality.  She  possessed  the  art  of 
detaching  her  personality  from  her  philanthropies  to  a 
singular  degree.  How  she  contrived  during  long  years 
of  such  active  participation  in  public  work  to  elude  the 

24 


370  BOSTON   DAYS 


omnipresent  interviewer  and  personal  paragraph  er  is  a 
mystery.  Her  name  is  less  widely  or  less  generally 
known,  than  that  of  multitudes  of  trivial  and  insig- 
nificant people  who  contrive  some  way  to  be  always 
flaunting  themselves  in  public  view.  The  character  of 
Mrs.  Hemenway  offers  a  most  interesting  study. 

She  was  a  gentlewoman  of  an  older  day.  She  had  a 
quiet  and  gentle  dignity  of  manner,  a  refinement  and  a 
certain  impressiveness  of  the  good  sense  that  distin- 
guished her.  She  would  not  have  been  called  a 
brilliant  woman,  yet  to  this  great  natural  poise  and 
solidity  of  intellect  she  added  a  symmetry  of  culture  in 
literature,  art,  and  social  life  that  would  have  graced 
society  in  any  part  of  the  world.  In  personal  ap- 
pearance she  was  plain,  although  no  one  could  ever 
fail  to  recognize  the  stamp  of  the  ''  dame  of  high 
degree  "  about  her.  Her  face  was  rather  long  and  thin, 
and  this  aspect  was  emphasized  by  the  way  she  wore 
her  hair,  combed  down  in  plain  bands  over  the  ears  in 
the  fashion  of  a  bygone  age,  albeit  a  little  revived  at 
present.  Her  costuming  had  always  a  certain  air  of 
quiet  elegance,  and  her  presence  on  any  social  occasion 
was  one  to  inspire  an  interest  in  learning  her  views  of 
life  and  affairs.  She  had  the  presence  that  inspired  one 
with  a  feeling  that  he  would  like  to  talk  with  her  — 
or  to  hear  her  talk —  more  freely  than  the  time  or  place 
would  allow.  To  her  more  intimate  circle  she  was  a 
most  interesting  woman.  She  entered  sympathetically 
into  many  phases  of  life,  and  whether  one  saw  her  as 
the  grande  dame,  giving  the  most  elaborate  ball  of  the 


DAWN   OF  THE   TWENTIETH    CENTURY     371 

season  for  her  granddaughter,  or  as  the  philanthropist, 
she  was  always  the  central  figure. 

One  very  marked  trait  in  her  character  was  the 
eminent  balance  of  judgment  with  which  she  justly 
appreciated,  but  never  over  or  under  estimated,  her 
wealth. 

Mrs.  Hemenway  had  virtual  control  of  a  large  fortune. 
She  was  the  daughter  of  a  wealthy  New  York  merchant 
—  a  Mr.  Tileston  from  whom  she  inherited  large 
estates,  and  her  hue :  :.ad,  the  late  Augustus  Hemenway, 
of  Boston,  made  a  large  fortune  in  South  American 
silver  mines.  While  she  appreciated  at  its  value  and 
held  as  a  responsibilitj  her  great  fortune,  she  never 
failed  to  estimate  quali!:ie3  of  cl:  racter  as  values  far 
above  money.  She  might  shower  material  blessings  as 
a  friend  or  neighbor  in  all  conceivable  ways  of  delicate 
and  valuable  gifts,  important  aid,  and  benefactions  in 
general ;  but  if  the  friend  gave  he-  in  return  the  com- 
panionship that  she  prized,  she  held  herself  to  be  the 
debtor,  the  person  who  was  under  special  obligation. 
This  was  a  very  marked  as  well  as  beautiful  trait  in  her 
character,  and  illustrates  the  refined  quality  of  her  mind. 
If  she  gave  one  bread  and  salt,  and  he  gave  her  thought, 
suggestion,  sympathetic  companionship,  she  counted 
herself  the  person  who  received  favors  and  benefits, 
not  the  one  conferring  them. 

Mrs.  Hemenway 's  philanthropies  were  very  extended 
and  took  largely  an  educational  form.  History  and 
ethnology  enlisted  her  profound  interest.  It  was  she 
who  enabled  Mr.  Gushing  to  pursue  his  studies  of  the 


372  BOSTON   DAYS 


Zuni  Indians,  and  it  was  she,  also,  who  made  pos- 
sible the  preservation  of  that  venerable  historic  relic, 
the  "Old  South,"  donating,  herself,  half  the  sum  — 
$200,000  —  required  for  saving  it,  and  she  alone  es- 
tablished it  as  an  institute  of  history  with  its  present 
system  of  mid-summer  lectures. 

The  visit  of  Matthew  Arnold,  the  distinguished  poet 
and  critic,  to  Boston  in  the  early  eighties  was  an  event 
of  profound  interest.  He  delivered  the  three  lectures 
(which  are  now  published  in  the  volume  entitled  ^'  Dis- 
courses in  America ")  before  large  and  attentive 
audiences  ;  and  in  his  incomparable  critique  on  Emer- 
son he  sought  to  approach  truth  by  the  law  of  ex- 
clusion. Emerson  was  not  a  great  philosopher,  he 
asserted ;  he  was  not,  as  judged  by  Milton's  test,  a  great 
poet ;  he  was  not  even  a  great  man  of  letters.  The 
hearers  listened  —  could  one  ever  forget  that  hour  ?  — 
in  breathless  amazement.  There  sat  the  majestic  form 
of  Phillips  Brooks ;  a  little  farther  on,  and  the  keen, 
delicate,  searching  countenance  of  Dr.  Holmes  was  seen 
in  profile  ;  Mrs.  Howe's  uplifted  face  with  luminous 
eyes;  all  around  sat  men  and  women  of  world- 
renowned  fame,  and  all  —  perhaps  without  a  single  ex- 
ception — ■  worshippers  of  Boston's  idol  —  Ralph  Waldo 
Emerson.  What  would  happen  to  Mr.  Arnold  ?  one 
inwardly  questioned.  Would  they  fall  upon  him  and 
rend  him  —  these  embodiments  of  Boston's  finest 
culture  ?  One  was  not  half  sure  that  he  did  not  long 
that  they  should,  for  Emerson  was  the  universal  idol, 
the  star  of  devotion.     But  one  waited.     What  would 


DAWN   OF   THE   TWENTIETH    CENTURY     373 


Mr.  Arnold  say?  What  did  he  say?  He  said  that 
Emerson  was  "  the  friend  and  the  aider  of  those  who 
would  live  in  the  spirit."  There  was  the  magnificent 
affirmative  at  last,  whose  force  and  splendor  of  signifi- 
cance overbore  a  thousand  denials  and  negatives  about 
men  of  letters,  or  even  poets.  For  the  life  of  the  spirit 
is  the  one  supreme  end  for  which  all  live,  —  the  end 
toward  which  all  creation  travelleth ;  nay,  it  is  the  only 
life ;  for  when  one  does  not  live  in  the  spirit,  he  does  not 
live  at  all ;  he  merely  —  exists. 

The  Lowell  Institute,  which  is  always  the  theatre  of 
great  thought,  has  always  been  peculiarly  fortunate  in 
securing  among  its  lecturers  the  great  specialists  in 
modern  science,  as  well  as  the  most  thoughtful  critics 
of  literature  and  life.  Among  the  great  lectures  of 
recent  years  must  be  noted  that  of  Dr.  Albert  A. 
Michelson,  the  inventor  of  the  "  echelon  spectroscope," 
by  which  the  measurement  of  a  beam  of  light  may  be 
obtained,  —  a  new  achievement  in  science.  Dr.  Michel- 
son  is  one  of  the  younger  men  who  are  already  leading 
authorities  on  physics.  He  has  made  discoveries  which 
give  him  the  first  rank  in  science.  German  by  lineage 
and  birth,  be  passed  his  boyhood  in  California  and, 
entering  the  Naval  Academy  at  Annapolis,  was  in  the 
navy  for  eleven  years  after  graduating.  Before  he  was 
twenty-three  he  had  made  original  discoveries  which 
rendered  his  name  familiar  to  European  savants.  As 
the  years  passed  it  became  evident  that  he  had  work  to 
do  requiring  freedom  and  entire  devotion,  and  he  left 
the  navy  for  the  laboratory.     Later  be  was  for  three 


374  BOSTON  DAYS 


years  professor  in  Clark  University  at  Worcester,  Mass., 
and  from  thence  accepted  a  chair  in  the  University  of 
Chicago.  His  lectures  before  the  Lowell  Institute 
discussed  "Light  Waves  and  their  Application,"  in- 
cluding wave-motion,  the  spectrum  analysis,  the  ap- 
plications of  light  waves  to  astronomical  measurements, 
the  measurement  of  double  stars,  of  diameters  of 
satellites,  the  possibility  of  determining  the  size  of 
stars,  and  the  effects  of  magnetism  on  light. 

Professor  Michelson  has  devised  an  exact  and  verifi- 
able system  of  measurement  by  means  of  light  waves. 
For  this,  and  for  the  invention  of  a  still  more  intricate 
apparatus  called  the  echelon  spectroscope,  the  French 
government  awarded  to  him  a  medal,  and  the  exposi- 
tion authorities  have  given  him  pre-eminence  in  the 
science  department.  The  instrument  measuring  light 
is  called  the  ^'  interferometer."  It  was  found  that  the 
length  of  a  wave  of  light  of  a  certain  color  is  always 
the  same  under  similar  conditions  of  temperature. 
There  is  no  spot  on  the  globe  where  the  interferometer 
may  not  be  used  to  measure  off  the  length  of  a  metre  in 
light.  The  red  light  in  a  shaft  of  white  sunshine  may 
be  singled  out  and  its  progress  measured  in  wave  lengths, 
and  a  million  and  a  half  of  these  are  found  equal  to 
the  length  of  the  metre. 

Professor  Michelson's  interferometer  consists  of  a  set 
of  prisms  which  divide  light  into  these  wave  lengths. 
He  counted  fifteen  hundred  of  these  waves  and  found 
that  it  required  exactly  a  thousand  times  that  number 
to  make  the  length  of  the  Paris  metre. 


DAWN   OF   THE   TWENTIETH   CENTURY     375 

His  device  of  the  echelon  spectroscope,  for  which  he 
received  the  pre-eminence,  is  the  most  delicate  optical 
instrument  ever  made.  It  enables  science  to  divide 
light  ten  times  more  minutely  than  ever  before,  and  it  is 
the  most  important  work  done  in  physics  in  many  years. 
Professor  Michelson  demonstrated  the  practicability  of 
his  spectroscope  months  before  he  succeeded  in  getting 
a  lensmaker  to  undertake  the  work  of  constructing  the 
new  instrument. 

In  the  scientific  museum  at  Sevres  is  this  interfero- 
meter, invented  by  Dr.  Michelson.  In  his  early  youth 
he  was  in  Heidelberg,  Berlin,  and  Paris  for  scientific 
study,  and  enjoyed  a  range  of  privileges  open  only 
to  great  scholars.  The  distinguished  Von  Helmholtz 
called  upon  him,  —  an  honor  enjoyed  by  few.  Noted 
savants  in  Paris  gave  him  the  most  cordial  recogni- 
tion. Dr.  Michelson's  lectures  before  the  Lowell  In- 
stitute discussed  light  waves  and  their  interference 
and  measurement;  the  utilization  of  these  waves  by 
microscope  and  telescope ;  the  outline  of  spectrum 
analysis ;  the  determination  of  the  standard  miles  and 
the  measurements  of  double  stars,  of  the  diameters 
of  satellites  and  smaller  planets,  the  possibility  of 
determining  the  size  of  stars,  the  effect  of  mag- 
netism on  light,  the  ether,  and  the  evidence  for  the 
existence  of  a  medium  which  propagates  the  light 
waves. 

Modern  science  is  not  only  the  fairyland  of  the  poet, 
but  it  is  the  great  living  fountain  of  truth  out  of  which 
spiritual  as  well  as  physical  laws  are  discovered. 


376  BOSTON   DAYS 


It  would  hardly  be  an  exaggeration  to  say  that  there 
is  nothing  in  the  modern  development  of  science  that 
is  not  more  or  less  clearly  prophesied  in  the  prose  or 
the  poetry  of  Emerson.  He  was  the  great  spiritual  seer, 
greater  than  even  his  most  devoted  disciple  has  yet 
conceived.  It  will  require  the  progress  of  another 
century  to  adequately  realize  how  lofty  and  far- discern- 
ing was  Emerson's  quality  of  mind.  He  was  evidently 
in  spiritual  rapport  with  unseen  forces  and  high  intelli- 
gences. His  works  are  full  of  vital  hints  and  rich 
suggestions,  which  are  more  and  more  emerging  from  a 
nebulous  state  into  the  practical  actualities  of  daily 
experience. 

For  instance,  in  the  discovery  of  liquid  air  we  have  a 
transparent,  sparkling  fluid  that  boils  on  ice,  freezes 
pure  alcohol,  and  burns  steel ;  one  cannot  but  recall  the 
prophetic  intimation  of  this  in  Emerson's  line,  "  Makes 
flame  to  freeze  and  ice  to  boil,"  in  a  line  in  his  poem 
entitled  "  Spiritual  Laws,"  a  part  of  which  runs :  — 

»  "  Sole  and  self-commanded  works 

Fears  not  undermining  days ; 
Grows  by  decays, 

And  by  the  famous  might  that  lurks 
In  reaction  and  recoil. 
Makes  flame  to  freeze  and  ice  to  boil." 

Another  of  the  remarkable  courses  of  scientific  lec- 
tures before  the  Lowell  Institute  was  that  by  Prof. 
T.  J.  J.  See,  on  "Sidereal  Astronomy,"  in  which  he 
announced  a  new  nebular  theory.  This  lecture  was 
an    event  in    contemporary    scientific   progress.      Dr. 


DAWN   OF   THE   TWENTIETH   CENTURY     377 

See  is  one  of  the  eminent  body  of  astronomers  who 
made  prominent  the  work  at  Flagstaff,  Arizona,  the 
Observatory  established  by  Prof.  Percival  Lowell,  and 
which  is  in  some  respects  the  most  important  centre 
of  late  of  astronomical  activities.  Recently  Dr.  See 
was  appointed  Director  of  the  Naval  University  in 
Washington. 

He  has  announced  a  new  discovery  in  astronomical 
physics  which  gives  to  science  an  absolutely  new  law, 
one  that  supersedes  and,  indeed,  negatives  the  famous 
nebular  hypothesis  of  La  Place,  which  was  that  the 
luminous  bodies  are  now  cooling  from  a  heated  and  in- 
candescent state.  Professor  See's  hypothesis  is  just  the 
opposite  of  this,  his  theory  being  that  all  the  starry, 
planetary,  and  nebulous  bodies  are  growing  hotter,  and 
that  their  temperatures  vary  inversely  to  the  radii,  — 
that  is,  the  less  the  radius,  the  greater  the  heat ;  the 
greater  the  radius,  the  less  the  heat. 

It  is  a  tremendous  event  if  a  man  has  now  arisen 
who  discovers  a  new  theory  that  completely  revolution- 
izes the  astronomical  hypothesis  that  has  heretofore 
been  accepted  and  held  since  its  first  promulgation  by 
La  Place.  His  conception,  as  finally  elaborated,  is 
that  all  the  celestial  bodies  first  existed  in  disconnected 
matter,  which,  under  the  law  of  gravitation,  became 
gradually  resolved  into  nebulae  and  is  now  on  its  way 
to  become  solid  bodies.  La  Place  conceived  that  all 
matter  in  its  nebulous  and  pre-nebulous  stage  is  in- 
tensely hot,  becoming  incandescent ;  then  appearing  in 
a  state  of  white  heat,  like  Sirius ;  then  red,  like  Aide- 


378  BOSTON    DAYS 


baran,  and  still  later  becoming  black,  non-luminous,  and 
invisible. 

During  his  researches  at  Flagstaff,  Dr.  See  found 
discrepancies  in  this  theory  which  refused  to  fit  existing 
facts.  He  was  making  a  specialty  of  the  study  of 
multiple  stars;  he  was  engaged  in  profound  mathe- 
matical calculations,  especially  in  reference  to  the  dark 
twin  companion  of  Sirius,  and  it  was  during  this  pro- 
longed period  of  research  that  it  first  occurred  to  him 
that  the  fundamental  idea  itself,  which  he,  in  com- 
mon with  all  the  astronomers  since  La  Place,  had 
accepted  as  the  foundation  of  all  work,  —  that  this 
hypothesis  was,  in  itself,  wrong ;  and  that  the  true 
theory  might  be  that  all  the  attenuated  nebulae  was  in 
a  gaseous,  but  not  heated,  state.  Experimenting,  then, 
on  this  basis,  he  found  that  it  fitted  in  with  a  constantly 
increasing  array  of  facts.  He  began  to  believe  that  the 
tenuous  nebulae,  instead  of  being  in  a  state  of  intense 
heat,  is  instead  very  near  the  '^  absolute  zero "  of 
physics,  which  is  some  500  degrees  below  the  zero  of 
the  Fahrenheit  scale. 

Subsequently,  the  stages  of  these  bodies  were  of 
increasing  heat;  and  Dr.  See  pointed  out  that  very 
bright  stars,  as  Sirius  and  Vega,  are  approaching  the 
end  of  their  cosmic  life,  and  are  on  the  way  to  become 
dark  and  invisible.  The  sun  is  approaching  the  state 
where  it  will  give  off  less  heat ;  but  as  the  change  is 
yet  some  millions  of  years  in  the  future,  this  fact  will 
not  affect  the  market  price  of  coal.  One  statement 
made  by  Dr.  See  peculiarly  appeals  to  the  imagination  — 


DAWN   OF   THE   TWENTIETH    CENTURY     379 

the  assertion  that  the  heavens  are  probably  full  of  dark 
bodies  that,  having  outlived  their  luminous  stages,  are 
not  visible,  and  also  of  far  grander  and  more  vast  bodies 
of  nebulse  than  have  been  yet  discovered. 

If  this  hypothesis  shall  prove  to  be  one  that  is 
accepted  by  modern  science  and  adopted  as  the  working 
basis  for  all  future  speculative  research  in  astro-physics, 
the  date  of  its  announcement  in  Boston,  before  the 
choice  and  critical  audience  inseparably  associated 
with  the  Lowell  Institute,  was  on  the  evening  of 
Jan.  10,  1899,  a  very  memorable  date  in  scientific 
history.  Not  since  the  lectures  of  Prof.  Benjamin 
Pierce  in  1879  —  twenty  years  before  —  had  there  been 
given  under  the  distinguished  auspices  of  the  Lowell 
Institute  a  course  of  scientific  lectures  so  important  as 
that  on  "  Sidereal  Astronomy  "  by  Dr.  See. 

Thomas  Jefferson  Jackson  See  was  born  near  Mont- 
gomery City,  Mo.,  in  1866.  His  father,  Noah  See,  is  a 
descendant  of  an  old  German  family,  the  name  being 
originally  Zhee.  His  ancestors  came  to  America  before 
the  War  of  the  Revolution,  and  some  members  of  the 
family  did  good  service  in  that  war.  The  elder  See 
was  a  civil  engineer,  a  man  of  great  intelligence,  and  ^ 
lover  of  books.  The  son  was  a  quiet,  thoughtful  lad,  who 
was  temperamentally  attracted  to  the  intense  observation 
of  natural  phenomena.  His  mathematical  instincts 
dominated  him.  He  would  lie  on  the  ground  and 
watch  the  tops  of  waving  trees  and  try  to  see  in  them 
a  rhythmic  harmony.  He  instinctively  counted  every- 
thing.    He  lost  himself  in  Humboldt's  "  Cosmos"  with 


380  BOSTON   DAYS 


the  most  absorbed  attention,  and  he  became  fascinated 
with  the  work  of  Helmholtz  —  who  was  afterward  to  be 
his  instructor,  little  as  the  lad  could  then  have  dreamed 
of  the  privilege.  Yet  he  did  dream  of  things  as  won- 
derful. The  world  outside  his  horizon  line  haunted  his 
imagination.  In  his  early  teens  he  decided  that  he  would 
go  to  Germany  to  study.  "  The  attractions  are  pro- 
portional to  the  destinies,"  says  Emerson,  and  Mr.  See 
proved  the  truth  of  this. 

It  is  related  tliat  an  old  Quaker  replied  to  a  man 
who  was  describing  the  admirable  system  of  activities, 
by  means  of  which  every  moment  of  his  time  was  filled 
"  And,  friend,  when  does  thee  think  ? "  Mr.  See  found 
time  to  think.  It  is  a  privilege  that  college  or  uni- 
versity cannot  invariably  insure  to  its  students.  The 
early  opportunities  offered  to  him  were  meagre,  and  still 
this  very  lack  of  outward  fulness  facilitated  in  his  case 
the  inner  progress.  His  nature  required  solitude  and 
leisure  rather  than  society  and  exacting  demand. 

He  entered  the  University  of  Missouri  taking  the  clas- 
sical and  scientific  courses  united,  and  graduated  in 
four  years  with  brilliant  triumphs.  He  had  made  a 
constant  companion  of  La  Place's  "  Mechanique  Celeste," 
and  he  then  adopted  the  nebular  hypothesis  of  this 
astronomer,  with  much  enthusiasm,  little  divining  that 
within  ten  years  his  own  work  would  negative  its 
meaning  and  prove  that  its  reverse  were  true.  During 
his  last  two  years  at  the  university  he  spent  his 
vacations  at  work  in  its  Observatory,  and  it  was  there 
that  he  initiated  the  special  interest  of  his  life  and  began 


DAWN   OF   THE   TWENTIETH   CENTURY     381 

to  observe  and  study  the  problems  of  double  stars.  It 
occurred  to  him  that  no  one  had  ever  made  research 
into  their  development,  and  his  thesis  (which  gained  for 
him  the  Missouri  astronomical  medal)  took  for  its 
subject  "  The  Origin  of  Binary  Stars." 

His  dream  of  entering  the  University  of  Berlin  was 
fulfilled  in  1889,  and  setting  out  for  that  city,  alone, 
without  friends,  and  carrying  with  him  only  a  letter  of 
introduction  from  the  Governor  of  Missouri  to  the 
authorities  at  Berlin,  he  was  yet  admitted  to  all  the 
rich  resources.  During  four  years  he  studied  under 
Helmholtz,  Zoller,  and  others  of  the  great  German 
masters.  During  the  vacations  he  travelled  in  Egypt, 
Greece,  Italy,  and  England,  and  not  only  familiarized 
himself  with  the  noted  places  of  antiquity,  but  became 
acquainted  with  many  celebrated  men,  among  whom 
was  the  younger  Darwin. 

One  of  the  memorable  nights  in  Boston  was  that 
when  the  Viking  hero.  Dr.  Nansen,  appeared,  to  describe 
the  marvellous  effects  of  life  in  the  Polar  regions. 
A  great  reception  had  been  given  in  his  honor  and 
all  the  enthusiasts  of  the  town  who  could  by  any 
possibility  crowd  into  Music  Hall  and  its  adjoining 
corridors,  were  in  evidence.  For  that  moment,  at  least, 
Dr.  Nansen  was  considered  to  be  in  many  respects  the 
greatest  man  of  the  Nineteenth  century. 

"  His  tongue  was  framed  to  music, 

And  his  hand  was  armed  with  skill ; 
His  face  was  the  mould  of  beauty, 
And  his  heart  the  throne  of  will." 


382  BOSTON    DAYS 


These  lines  of  Emerson's  seemed  written  to  describe 
the  tall,  fair  sea-king ;  the  typical  Viking  —  blond, 
slender,  tall,  and  well-built  as  a  pine-tree  from  his 
native  northland,  with  those  brilliant,  sapphire-blue 
eyes,  flashing  and  all-comprehensive,  that  indicate  the 
electric  temperament  which  is  born  to  conquer  and 
prevail.  "  There  are  men,"  says  Emerson,  "  who,  by 
their  sympathetic  attractions,  carry  nations  with  them 
and  lead  the  activity  of  the  human  race.  Wherever  the 
mind  of  such  a  man  goes  nature  will  accompany  him  ; 
perhaps  there  are  men  whose  magnetisms  are  of  that 
force  to  draw  material  and  elemental  powers,  and 
where  they  appear  immense  instrumentalities  organize 
around  them." 

This  elixir  of  power,  distilled,  who  shall  say  how  or 
where  by  some  alchemy  of  mind  and  soul,  seemed  the 
gracious  and  lavish  dower  of  Dr.  Nan  sen.  The  man 
was  still  more  fascinatingly  interesting  than  the  achieve- 
ment. This  electric  temperament  that  dominates  all 
it  meets  as  inevitably  as  the  stone  falls  by  the  law  of 
gravitation ;  that  magnetizes  toward  it  event  and  cir- 
cumstance and  the  aid  of  men  and  organizes  all  these 
forces  into  one  aim,  is  a  deeply  interesting  study.  One 
recalls  William  Watson's  wonderful  lines  :  — 

"  Spirits,  with  whom  the  stars  connive 
To  work  their  will." 

Napoleon  once  said :  "  All  the  great  captains  have 
performed  vast  achievements  by  conforming  with  the 
rules  of  the  art  —  by  adjusting  efforts  to  obstacles." 


DAWN   OF   THE   TWENTIETH   CENTURY     383 

This  describes  Dr.  Nansen's  method.  The  special  idea 
on  which  he  based  his  entire  Polar  expedition  has 
hardly  been  emphasized  as  yet.  It  was  precisely  on 
this  great  truth  —  to  conform  with  the  prevailing  laws 
—  to  "  adjust  efforts  to  obstacles  "  that  Dr.  Nansen 
confronted  the  fact  of  the  ice  drift  in  the  polar  regions. 
Heretofore  all  explorers  had  encountered  it  as  an  ob- 
stacle. Dr.  Nansen  proposed  to  take  advantage  of  it  as 
an  assistance.  It  was  merely  the  decision  to  row  with 
the  tide  and  not  against  it ;  to  conform  with  the  law 
of  gravitation,  and  not  oppose  it ;  to  saw  with  the 
grain  of  the  wood  and  not  across  it.  In  its  various 
applications  this  law  is  the  key  of  all  successful  en- 
deavor, and  of  all  happiness.  Most  people  are  born  with 
some  predetermined  bias  of  inclination  and  tempera- 
ment, and  he  is  the  successful  man  who  follows  this 
through  good  report  or  through  evil  report,  as  may  be, 
through  ease  or  through  hardship ;  but,  in  any  case, 
with  fidelity  to  his  star.  Whether  it  "  pays  "  —  in  the 
cant  of  the  world  —  is  of  no  consequence.  That  which 
is  of  consequence  is  that  one  should  develop  the 
best  that  is  in  him  as  it  is  for  this  cause  that  he  comes 

into  the  world. 

"  I  can  live 
At  least  my  soul's  life,  without  alms  from  men, 
And  if  it  be  in  heaven  instead  of  earth, 
Let  heaven  look  to  it  —  I  am  not  afraid." 

Mrs.  Browning's  noble  words  are  the  most  practicable 
of  counsels.  The  unhappiness  and  the  misfortunes  of 
life  are  largely  those  that  spring  from  not  keeping  faith 
"with  one's  ideals. 


384  BOSTON   DAYS 


Certainly  Dr.  Nansen  kept  faith  with  his.  He 
pondered  over  this  fact  of  the  ice  drift,  and  that  which 
has  been  the  chief  and  insurmountable  obstacle  to 
previous  explorers  became  to  him  ways  and  means,  an 
ally  of  nature's.  This  is  the  secret  of  all  successful 
achievement,  —  to  discern  the  laws  of  nature  and  put 
one's  self  in  harmony  with  them.  Men  are  now  learn- 
ing to  harness  the  lightning,  to  make  the  cataract  of 
Niagara  do  labor  in  New  York,  and  as  these  natural 
forces  are  taken  advantage  of,  in  that  proportion  does 
life  become  useful,  beautiful,  and  enjoyable.  Dr.  Nansen 
conceived  the  plan  of  building  a  ship  that  should  with- 
stand ice  pressure  and  thus  float  with  the  tide  in  that 
current  that  leads  to  the  open  polar  sea.  Navigators 
said  it  could  not  be  done ;  that  the  grind  of  the  ice  in 
winter,  at  all  events,  when  the  huge  masses  are  like 
mountains  of  granite,  would  crush  any  ship  ever  built. 
His  reply  was  to  build  the  "  Fram,"  which  withstood 
the  pressure,  and  after  three  years'  voyaging  safely 
returned. 

The  story  of  this  voyage  and  the  explorations  by 
sledge  after  leaving  the  ship  held  spellbound  the 
large  and  brilliant  audience  that  assembled  to  assist  at 
the  appearance  of  the  great  explorer. 

Of  the  experience  when  they  entered  into  the  frozen 
silence  of  the  winter  night  Dr.  Nansen  said  :  — 

'^  Among  our  scientific  pursuits  may  also  be  mentioned 
the  determining  of  the  temperature  of  water  and  its 
degree  of  saltness  at  varying  depths ;  the  collection  and 
examination  of  such  animals  as  are  to  be  found  in  these 


DAWN   OF   THE   TWENTIETH   CENTURY     385 

northern  seas;  the  ascertaining  of  the  amount  of  elec- 
tricity in  the  air  and  other  things.  One  salient  feature 
in  all  the  voyage  was  the  exquisite  purity  of  the  air  and 
the  consequent  freedom  from  illness  or  even  lassitude, 
which  indicates  that  the  human  body  is  far  more  depend- 
ent on  good  air  than  has  ever  been  realized." 

Describing  the  scene  he  gave  this  vivid  picture  :  — 

"Nothing  more  beautiful  can  exist  than  the  arctic 
night.  It  is  dreamland  painted  in  the  imagination's 
most  delicate  tints.  It  is  color  etherealized.  One  shade 
melts  into  the  other  so  you  cannot  tell  where  one  ends 
and  the  other  begins,  and  yet  they  are  all  there.  No 
forms  —  it  is  all  faint,  dreamy  color  music.  A  far-away, 
long-drawn  art  melody  on  united  strings.  Is  not  all  life's 
beauty  high  and  delicate  and  pure  like  this  night?  Give 
it  colors  and  it  is  no  longer  so  beautiful.  The  sky  is  like 
an  enormous  cupola,  blue  at  the  zenith,  shading  down 
into  green,  and  then  into  lilac  and  violet  at  the  edges. 
Over  the  ice  fields  there  are  cold,  violet-blue  shadows, 
with  lighter  pink  tints  where  a  ridge  here  and  there 
catches  the  last  reflection  of  the  vanished  day.  Up  in 
the  blue  of  the  cupola  shine  the  stars,  speaking  peace  as 
they  always  do,  those  unchanging  friends.  In  the  south 
stands  a  large,  red-yellow  moon,  encircled  by  a  yellow 
ring  and  light  golden  clouds  floating  on  a  blue  back- 
ground. Presently  the  aurora  borealis  shakes  over  the 
vault  of  heaven  its  veil  of  glittering  silver,  changing  now 
to  yellow,  now  to  green,  now  to  red.  It  spreads,  it  con- 
tracts again  in  restless  change ;  next  it  breaks  into 
waving,  many- folded  bands  of  shining  silver,  over  which 
shoot  billows  of  glittering  rays,  and  then  the  glory  van- 
ishes. Presently  it  shimmers  in  tongues  of  flame  over 
the  very  zenith,   and  then  again  it  shoots  a  bright  ray 

25 


386  BOSTON   DAYS 


right  up  from  the  horizon,  until  the  whole  melts  away  in 
the  moonlight,  and  it  is  as  though  one  heard  the  sigh  of 
a  departing  spirit.  Here  and  there  are  left  a  few  waving 
streamers  of  light,  vague  as  a  foreboding  —  they  are  the 
dust  from  the  aurora's  glittering  cloak.  But  now  it  is 
growing  again  ;  now  lightnings  shoot  up,  and  the  endless 
game  begins  afresh.  And  all  the  time  this  utter  stillness, 
impressive  as  the  symphony  of  infinitude." 

Prof.  Percival  Lowell,  the  graDdson  of  the  founder 
of  the  Lowell  Institute,  is  an  eminent  scholar  and 
traveller.  Passing  many  years  in  the  Orient  he 
wrote  a  valuable  book  called  "The  Soul  of  the  Far 
East,"  a  fine  interpretation  of  its  inner  life,  and  when 
it  was  announced  that  he  would  give  a  course  of  four 
lectures  on  "  Japanese  Occultism "  before  the  Lowell 
Institute  a  wide  interest  was  aroused.  Of  late  years 
Professor  Lowell  has  assumed  the  directorship  of  his 
own  Observatory  in  Arizona,  w^here  he  has  contributed 
to  Astronomy  many  valuable  observations. 

Another  of  the  great  courses  of  Lowell  Institute 
lectures  was  that  of  Rev.  G.  Frederick  Wright,  D.D., 
LL.D.,  professor  of  the  Harmony  of  Science  and  Reve- 
lation in  Oberlin.  His  series  of  lectures  on  the  *^  Scien- 
tific Aspect  of  Christian  Evidences "  was  one  of  the 
most  notable  features  of  the  intellectual  life  of  Boston, 
and  they  were  indeed  of  so  unusual  a  character  as  to 
be  only  described  as  epoch-making. 

The  scientist  who  is  a  theologian,  the  theologian 
who  is  a  scientist,  are  united  in  Dr.  Wright.  His  course 
was  one  so  exceptional  in  its  character,  not  only  in  a 


DAWN   OF   THE   TWENTIETH    CENTURY     387 

peculiarly  vital  and  suggestive  and  stimulating  effect  on 
the  mind  of  the  hearer  but  also  in  its  great  fund  of 
information,  as  to  leave  a  profound  impression  on  the 
audiences.  Dr.  Wright  was  born  in  Whitehall,  N.  Y., 
in  the  romantic  Lake  George  region,  whose  scenery, 
doubtless,  fostered  his  inclination  to  study  nature. 
With  two  of  his  brothers  he  graduated  at  Oberlin, 
and  he  filled  the  chair  of  Christian  Evidences  in  his 
Alma  Mater  for  twelve  years,  before  the  creation  of 
his  present  professorship,  —  the  chair  of  Harmony  of 
Science  and  Revelation.  Before  this,  however,  he 
had  been  settled  in  his  first  ministry  in  a  small  town 
in  Vermont,  where,  in  the  intervals  of  pastoral  work, 
he  began  studying  the  geological  formation,  and 
there  formulated  the  theory  of  the  terminal  moraine 
which  he  was  destined  afterward  to  verify  and  to 
record  with  such  scholarly  detail  and  scientific 
authority.  Later  he  was  called  to  Andover,  and  a 
friend  condoled  with  him  as  being  settled  in  a  place 
where  there  was  no  opportunity  for  his  geological  re- 
search. ^^But  the  opportunity  I  found  in  my  own 
backyard,"  he  said  smilingly,  "in  the  rifts  of  sand." 
Dr.  Wright's  discovery  of  the  terminal  moraine  (the 
limit  of  the  glacial  drift)  brought  him  into  note  among 
scientists.  Called  to  Oberlin,  he  was  a  distinguished 
figure  in  the  Society  for  Historical  Research  of  the 
Western  Reserve,  and  from  1883-86  was  occupied  in 
scientific  work  for  the  government.  He  visited  Alaska 
in  1886 — just  before  the  tourist  period  began  —  and 
passed  a   month   encamped   at  the  foot  of  the   Muir 


388  BOSTON   DAYS 


glacier.  The  sublimity  of  the  scenery  there  surpasses  all 
description,  he  has  said.  Constantly  there  resounds  the 
deafening  crash  as  huge  masses  of  the  glacier  break  and 
fall.  It  will  be  remembered  that  the  noted  book,  "  The 
Ice  Age  in  America,"  is  by  Dr.  Wright,  and  it  is  one 
whose  interest  rivals  that  of  romance.  In  the  summer 
of  1896  he  visited  Greenland,  one  of  the  scientists  on 
board  the  ill-starred  "  Miranda,"  and  in  a  work  called 
*^  Greenland  Ice  Fields  and  Life  in  North  America,"  are 
embodied  the  observations  of  that  momentous  journey. 

The  death  of  Prof.  Benjamin  Apthorp  Gould  of 
Harvard,  the  distinguished  astronomer,  which  occurred 
in  1896,  removed  another  of  the  great  lecturers  associated 
with  the  Lowell  Institute. 

It  may  be  remembered  that  it  was  Dr.  Gould  who 
founded  the  Observatory  at  Cordova,  in  the  Argen- 
tine Republic,  and  devoted  forty  years  to  the  work  of 
studying  the  Southern  heavens.  The  story  of  his  life  is 
one  of  singular  interest.  He  was  born  in  Boston  (in 
1826),  and  was  one  of  those  precocious  children  of  the 
earlier  New  England  life.  A  child  who  read  at  the 
age  of  three,  who  was  translating  Horace  at  five,  and 
writing  essays  upon  electricity  and  other  scientific  topics 
at  the  age  of  ten,  graduating  from  Harvard  at  nineteen, 
and  enjoying  the  friendships  of  such  men  as  Humboldt 
and  Gauss  before  he  was  twenty-five,  —  it  will  be  seen 
that  his  was  an  unusual  individuality.  In  Paris  he 
studied  astronomy  under  Arago,  and  returning  to 
America  he  entered  into  work  with  an  energy  of  vigor 
and   a   power   of  original   insight   that  wrought   new 


DAWN   OF   THE  TWENTIETH   CENTURY     389 

results.  For  instance,  it  was  Dr.  Gould  who  first 
thought  of  using  electricity  to  determine  longitudinal 
distances.  He  founded  (in  1867)  the  first  astronomical 
journal  ever  published  in  this  country,  carrying  it  on 
some  fifteen  years  at  his  own  expense.  He  organized 
the  Dudley  Observatory.  But  the  great  and  distinctive 
work  of  his  life  was  that  done  in  South  America.  At 
Cordova  he  founded  an  Observatory  which  has  grown  to 
be  one  of  the  most  superbly  appointed  of  the  world. 
He  has  contributed  largely  to  the  literature  of  astronom- 
ical science,  his  most  significant  work  being  entitled 
*^  Urananetry  of  the  Southern  Heavens."  For  sixteen 
years  he  devoted  himself  to  studying  the  Southern 
heavens  by  night  and  recording  by  day.  He  made  four 
dififerent  independent  observations  of  each  star  before 
deciding  on  the  result. 

Dr.  Gould  took  his  family  with  him  to  South  America, 
and  they  shared  patiently  the  long  exile  from  home  and 
friends. 

On  his  return  (in  1885)  Dr.  Holmes  was  the  poet 
at  a  banquet  given  to  hira,  and  some  stanzas  of  this 
post-prandial  greeting  run  :  — 

"  Science  has  kept  her  midnight  taper  burning 
To  greet  thy  coming  with  its  vestal  flame  ; 
Friendship  has  murmured,  '  When  art  thou  returning  1 ' 
'  Not  yet !     Not  yet ! '  the  answering  message  came. 

*'  Thine  was  unstinted  zeal,  unchilled  devotion. 

While  the  blue  realm  had  kingdoms  to  explore  — 
Patience,  like  his  who  ploughed  the  unfurrowed  ocean, 
Till  o'er  its  margin  loomed  San  Salvador." 


390  BOSTON    DAYS 


Dr.  Gould  held  an  important  place  among  American 
astronomers,  in  that  his  work  has  been  of  the  largest 
scope  and  involving  discoveries  and  corroboration  of 
important  theories.  His  work  in  mapping  the  Southern 
heavens  corresponds,  indeed,  to  that  of  the  famous 
Argelander  in  exploring  and  recording  the  stars  of  the 
Northern  heavens.  He  w^as  the  great  pioneer  in  the 
astronomical  work  of  this  country ;  and  his  voluntary 
exile  and  unwearied  work,  amid  deprivations  and  loss 
and  discomforts,  revealed  a  quality  of  spirit  unusually 
brave  and  heroic. 

Prof.  Rhys  Davids,  Ph.D.,  LL.D.,  the  secretary  of 
the  Royal  Asiatic  Society  in  London,  gave  a  course  of 
six  lectures  on  ^'  Buddhism  "  before  the  Lowell  Insti- 
tute. The  special  topics  to  be  considered  are  "  Evolu- 
tion of  Religious  Thought  in  India,"  "  Buddhist  Books," 
"The  Life  of  the  Buddha,"  "The  Secret  of  Buddha  in 
the  Circle  of  Life  and  the  Four  Truths,"  "Mystic 
Trance  and  Arahatship,"  and  "  The  Ideal  of  the  Later 
Buddhism." 

Professor  Davids  is  a  profound  Oriental  scholar  and 
a  man  of  unquestionable  authority ;  but  he  expounded 
Buddhism  as  a  man  would  expound  Christianity  who 
judged  it  exclusively  from  the  time  of  the  early  Chris- 
tian Fathers. 

Still  another  of  the  great  lecture  courses  of  the 
Lowell  Institute  was  that  of  Prof.  Hugo  Munster- 
berg  of  Harvard  on  "The  Results  of  Experimental 
Psychology,"  and  the  Lowell  Institute  was  as  crowded 
as  if  the  issues  of  life  and  death  were  involved  in  hear- 


DAWN   OF   THE   TWENTIETH    CENTURY     391 

ing  the  popular  German  professor  with  the  fascinating 
foreign  accent.  Professor  Mtinsterberg  declared  that 
this  science  stands  now  about  where  physics  did  in  the 
Seventeenth  century,  —  that  is  to  say,  that  in  the  true 
sense  there  are  as  yet  no  "results."  Its  chief  result 
he  finds  in  the  fact  that  we  know  our  mental  states  are 
endlessly  more  complex,  and  oifer  more  difficulties  to  the 
understanding  than  any  former  psychology  imagined. 
Such  statements  as  this  from  a  learned  foreigner  capti- 
vated Boston,  which  is  everlastingly  sure  that  its  own 
mental  states  are  far  more  complex,  more  profound,  and 
more  vitally  important  than  those  of  any  other  com- 
munity. Boston  was,  indeed,  so  engaged  in  this  fasci- 
nating problem  of  its  own  mental  condition  that  it 
experienced  a  rapturous  joy  in  hearing  them  so  ably 
analyzed  from  the  very  latest  and  most  approved  scien- 
tific point  of  view. 

A  course  given  by  Professor  James  of  Harvard  on 
"Exceptional  Mental  States"  produced  a  profound 
impression,  a  course  whose  specific  subjects  were 
"Dreams  and  Hypnotism,"  "Hysteria,*'  "Automatism," 
"Multiple  Personality,"  "Demoniacal  Possessions," 
"Witchcraft,"  "Degeneration,"  and  "Genius,"  and 
which  excited  the  deepest  interest  on  the  part  of  all 
interested  in  metaphysical  speculation  and  psychical 
phenomena. 

Under  its  present  curator.  Prof.  William  E.  Sedgwick, 
the  Lowell  Institute  has  entered  on  a  still  greater  scope 
of  power  and  splendor,  and  its  platform  represents  the 
highest  results  of  modern  thought  in  literature,  history. 


392  BOSTON   DAYS 


political  and  social  economy,  art,  jurisprudence,  science, 
and  ethics. 

Boston  has  always  been  the  most  sympathetic  and 
hospitable  of  cities  to  both  the  lyric  and  dramatic  stage, 
and  the  critical  appreciation  given  to  Rachel,  Edwin 
Forrest,  Fechter,  Edwin  Booth,  and  Adelaide  ISTeilson 
repeated  itself  during  the  last  two  decades  of  the  Nine- 
teenth century  when  the  greatest  stars  of  the  latter  day 
drama,  Madame  Sarah  Bernhardt,  Mrs.  Agnes  Booth 
(now  Mrs.  John  Schoeffel),  Sir  Henry  Irving  and  Miss 
Ellen  Terry,  and  Signora  Duse  appeared  from  time  to 
time.  Other  actors  of  importance  and  authentic  claim 
to  histrionic  greatness  were  also  seen  during  this 
period,  and  Boston  has  been  singularly  fortunate  in 
having  in  her  midst  a  great  critic  of  the  drama,  Mr. 
Henry  A.  Clapp,  whose  faithful  and  brilliant  work  as 
one  of  the  most  critical  interpreters  known  to  the 
modern  stage,  has  been  further  extended  by  many 
courses  of  his  lectures  on  the  Shakspearian  drama  that 
have  been  in  the  nature  of  an  educational  illumination 
on  dramatic  art.  Mr.  Clapp's  finely  discriminating 
work,  both  as  the  critic  on  the  more  important  presen- 
tation of  each  season,  and  as  the  lecturer  before  the 
Lowell  Institute  and  on  other  platforms,  has  contributed 
immeasurably  both  to  the  higher  progress  of  the  drama 
and  to  the  general  enlightenment  of  the  people.  The 
appearance  of  Signora  Duse  in  Boston  was  an  event  of 
moment;  considering  that  her  language  was  far  less 
familiar  than  that  of  French  to  the  average  audience, 
and   that  her  plays  were   neither  great   nor  new,  the 


DAWN   OF   THE   TWENTIETH    CENTURY     393 

interest  registered  tlie  remarkable  power  of  her  person- 
ality and  the  force  of  her  art  Her  repertoire  was 
limited  to  "  Camille,"  "  Fedora,"  and  the  Uvo  short 
plays  "  Cavalleria  Rusticana  "  and  ^'  La  Locandrera  " 
played  as  a  double  bill  at  one  performance.  The  play 
of  "  Camille/'  though  a  perennial  favorite,  has  long  since 
lost  the  charm  of  novelty,  and  ^^ Fedora"  is  not  an 
attractive  play  as  a  whole,  while  the  two  brief  plays 
were  transcriptions  of  Italian  peasant  life  offering  no 
charm  of  scenery  or  dress,  but  portraying  with  match- 
less art  that  phase  of  Italy. 

The  contrast  of  temperament  between  Signora  Duse 
and  Madame  Bernhardt  is,  if  not  as  wide  as  a  barn- 
door, or  as  deep  as  a  well,  at  least  one  to  impress 
itself. 

Madame  Bernhardt,  electric,  vivacious,  and  Parisienne 
to  her  finger-tips,  overflows  with  observation  and  com- 
ment. She  is  sympathetic  ;  she. is  attuned  by  tempera- 
ment and  training  to  be  en  evidence.  Signora  Duse  is 
remote  by  temperament.  The  currents  are  not  in  play, 
and  she  is,  too,  far  less  cosmopolitan  than  Bernhardt. 
Speaking  no  English,  she  finds  it  difficult  to  enter  into 
the  life  around  her.  The  French  feel  far  less  any  bar- 
rier of  language  than  do  the  Italians  or  Russians.  The 
French  language  is  so  universally  that  of  educated 
people  the  world  over  that  the  difibrence  of  race  is 
hardly  felt. 

In  Madame  Duse  one  saw  a  tall,  slender  woman,  yet 
not  characterized  by  the  willowy  grace  of  Madame  Bern- 
hardt:   with  an  interesting  presence,  but  not   one  of 


394  BOSTON   DAYS 


beauty  or  even  charm ;  with  a  countenance  strong, 
mobile,  and  capable  of  the  most  subtle  gradations  of 
expression;  black,  abundant  hair,  and  dark,  luminous 
eyes,  —  eyes  that  would  redeem  even  positive  plainness 
into  something  not  unlike  beauty.  She  has  the  most 
expressive  face  that  one  may  see  on  the  stage  to-day. 
But  all  this  that  is  studied  at  first  is  forgotten  after  all, 
as  the  play  proceeds.  Never  was  there  an  artist  of 
such  marvellous,  such  incredible  self-effacement.  Her 
own  personality  disappears  from  her  creation  as  that  of 
a  painter  from  an  ideal  figure  he  had  painted  on  canvas. 
Her  "  Camille  "  offers,  virtually,  an  original  creation,  and 
has  little  in  common  with  that  of  Bernhardt  or  of 
Modjeska.  The  character  is  less  accented  and  is  held 
to  a  perfectly  consistent  conception.  There  is  a  per- 
ceptible shade  less  of  the  delicacy  and  modesty  that 
characterizes  women  of  the  monde  rather  than  of  the 
demi-monde,  though  never  degenerating  into  any  posi- 
tive repulsiveness ;  but  a  suggestion  of  Bohemianism 
which  would  not  be  seen  in  refined  life.  There  is  also  a 
touch  of  business  shrewdness,  finally  conquered  by  love, 
in  her  relations  with  Armand.  The  death  scene  is  per- 
fectly quiet,  and  the  entire  efiect  from  first  to  last  is 
eminently  natural.  Her  dressing  is  dainty,  rich,  and 
beautiful,  but  her  gowns  are  the  costumes  of  the  draw- 
ing-room and  not  of  the  stage.  They  are  artistic,  and 
not  theatrical. 

The  great  seasons  of  Wagner  opera  in  Boston  under 
the  conduct  of  Walter  Damrosch  were  events  of  magni- 
tude and  of  far-reaching  importance.     Aside  from  their 


DAWN   OF   THE   TWENTIETH    CENTURY     395 

enjoyment,  they  offered  such  store  of  culture,  of  stimu- 
lus, of  imaginative  development  as  only  can  be  gained 
from  the  operas  of  Wagner. 

Walter  Damrosch  himself  is  a  remarkable  person- 
ality. Notwithstanding  the  claim  that  Alvary,  Sucher, 
Marie  Brema,  Rothmuhl,  Klafsky,  Lilli  Lehrnann,  Hen 
Schott,  and  Fraulein  Gadski  made  the  most  wonder- 
ful group  of  Wagner  artists  the  world  has  known, 
it  could  almost  be  said  that  the  star  of  an  opera  was 
Walter  Damrosch.  Promptly  to  the  minute  he  was  in 
his  place  in  the  orchestra  grasping  his  baton.  From 
this  moment  —  7-30  p.  m.  —  until  12,  and  in  the  longer 
operas  until  half  or  three-quarters  of  an  hour  later,  he 
fulfilled  his  arduous  duties  with  a  perfection  of  preci- 
sion, a  universal  perception  of  the  movements  of  each 
member  of  his  orchestra  and  of  everything  on  the  stage, 
that  was  extraordinary.  Did  the  fairies  bend  over  his 
cradle  and  lay  upon  him  the  spell  of  rhythmic  charmed 
success  ?  Was  it  as  unique  in  its  nature  as  the  magic 
fire  that  surrounds  Briinhilde  when  she  is  left  to  her 
long  sleep  on  the  mountain  ?  For  this  ability  to  always 
be  ready,  to  always  fill  one's  place  and  do  one's  work 
and  be  in  perfect  rhythmic  accord  with  the  occasion,  is 
far  more  a  matter  of  psychic  than  of  physical  power. 

It  was  interesting  to  watch  the  conductor  as  he 
wielded  the  baton.  A  skilled  student  in  physiognomy 
says  that  Mr.  Damrosch  has  the  Beethoven  mouth 
and  the  Napoleonic  nose.  His  brow  is  broad  and 
square  and  of  an  almost  classic  perfection  of  outline. 
His  countenance  has  the  glow  and  fineness  of  the  in- 


396  BOSTON    DAYS 


spirational,  and  the  firmness  and  purpose  of  the  execu- 
tive power.  A  New  York  critic  says  that  Walter 
Damrosch  was  born  with  a  golden  spoon  in  his  mouth. 
He  was  born  "with  something  better,  of  which  perhaps 
the  golden  spoon  may  be  typical,  —  a  fund  of  psychic 
energy  which  manifests  itself  in  persistence  of  purpose. 
When  the  elder  Damrosch  died,  it  seemed  incredible 
that  the  son  should  take  up  the  baton.  He  was  young ; 
he  was  inexperienced ;  and  to  be  the  leader  of  an 
orchestra  of  seventy-five  musicians  demanded  something 
more  than  the  musical  ability  alone.  It  means  the 
ability  to  get  along  well,  as  the  phrase  goes,  with  his 
artists  ;  to  preserve  discipline  among  a  large  body  of 
men,  many  of  whom  were  greatly  his  senior  in  years ; 
it  meant,  too,  preserving  artistic  enthusiasm  and  inspir- 
ing their  personal  loyalty.  Anton  Seidl  was  in  the 
field,  a  formidable  rival.  Yet  conditions  are  always 
conquerable  to  the  conquerors. 

Walter  Damrosch  is  the  conqueror  born.  He  is  a 
natural  leader.  He  wins,  he  pleases,  he  inspires,  he 
compels.  He  has  great  magnetism  and  bonhomie. 
He  is  generous,  ardent,  enthusiastic,  and  high-souled. 
He  has  also  a  remarkable  balance  of  judgment ;  he  is 
artistic  in  his  ardor,  discriminating  in  his  enthusiasm. 
He  is  not  carried  away  by  a  whim  or  a  fantasy.  He 
has  a  large  endowment  of  that  common  sense  which 
Guizot  pronounces  the  ^'  genius  of  humanity." 

All  this  successful  accomplishment  of  a  purpose  has 
its  springs  in  that  intense  psychical  energy  whose  mani- 
festation is   persistence.     Herbert   Spencer   discovered 


DAWN   OF   THE   TWENTIETH   CENTURY     397 

that  the  secret  of  the  universe  lies  in  persistence  of  en- 
ergy ;  no  less  does  the  secret  of  individual  success.  This 
persistence  of  energy  characterizes  Mr.  Damrosch.  If  he 
undertakes  anything  he  achieves  it.  It  may  be  the  im- 
possible —  but  it  is  conquered  all  the  same.  Ways  and 
means  are  to  him  a  mere  detail.  He  was  born  to  arrive. 
On  a  night  still  within  the  memory  of  Boston  opera- 
goers  when  "  Lohengrin "  was  to  be  presented  and 
the  Boston  Theatre  was  resplendent  with  an  audience 
that  thronged  its  interior  even  to  standing  room, 
there  was  an  inexplicable  delay.  Finally,  it  was 
rumored  that  the  hero  of  the  evening  had  been  sud- 
denly taken  ill,  and  a  substitute  was  being  sought. 
The  great  Alvary,  regarding  himself  as  free  that  night, 
had  chosen  the  evening  for  a  pedestrian  excursion  in 
regions  where  his  discovery  was  hopeless.  Four 
thousand  people  were  awaiting  —  not  too  patiently  — 
the  Knight  of  the  Holy  Grail,  when  Mr.  Damrosch, 
with  the  inspiration  of  his  temperament,  dashed  in  a 
cab  to  the  Castle  Square  Theatre,  procured  at  great 
financial  sacrifice  a  singer  who  had  familiarized  himself 
with  the  role,  and  the  performance  was  saved.  It  was 
entirely  characteristic  of  Mr.  Damrosch's  daily  experi- 
ences. He  expects  the  impossible  and  finds  it.  He  is 
not  a  conjurer  or  magician  (though  the  results  often 
seem  to  indicate  a  species  of  magic),  but  he  uses,  con- 
sciously or  unconsciously,  as  may  be,  this  intense 
quality  of  psychic  energy  which  creates  its  own  results. 
It  is  a  potency  that  has  its  right  of  way  all  through 
the  universe. 


398  BOSTON   DAYS 


On  another  memorable  night  of  a  Damrosch  opera 
season,  the  house  was  resplendent  with  beauty,  fashion, 
and  fame.  It  was  thronged  from  orchestra  to  upper 
gallery  by  one  of  those  critical  and  notable  audiences 
that  the  Wagner  opera  always  draws  in  musical  Boston. 
The  curtain  rolled  up  on  the  stage  scene  of  "  Tristan 
and  Isolde,"  and  a  strong  cast,  with  Paul  Kalisch  and 
that  great  artist,  Lilli  Lehmann,  in  the  title  r51es  ;  with 
Riza  Ebenschuetz,  a  new  singer,  as  Brangene,  and 
that  signal  public  favorite,  Emil  Fischer,  as  King  Mark. 
Mr.  Damrosch  looked  up  with  that  swift,  electric 
glance  of  his  which  seems  to  reveal  the  perfect  rapport 
that  exists  between  himself  and  the  singers  on  the 
stage  as  well  as  between  him  and  his  orchestra,  and 
the  great  music-drama  began. 

Mme.  Lilli  Lehmann  did  not  need  to  add  the  charm 
of  novelty  to  her  other  attractions,  but  as  it  had  been 
seven  years  since  she  was  last  seen  here  there  was,  to 
some  extent,  a  new  public  for  her, —  a  new  audience, 
who  came  to  see  and  hear,  and  who  departed  conquered, 
as  she  has  always  conquered  her  audiences.  She  is  a 
remarkable  artist,  perhaps  the  greatest  in  German  opera 
of  any  one  now  living.  She  has  the  traditional  colossal 
figure  of  Wagner's  heroines,  but  her  art  is  so  all- 
prevailing  that  one  accepts  her  Isolde  as  the  ideal  one 
and  asks  not  that  the  impassioned  princess  should  be 
more  youthful  and  slender. 

Such  presentations  of  Wagner's  music-dramas  are 
not  merely  nor  even  mostly  an  amusement.  They  afford 
the  most  exceptional  opportunity  for  a  serious  study  of 


DAWN   OF   THE  TWENTIETH   CENTURY     399 

the  latest  school  of  musical  art.  It  does  not  seem 
necessary  to  pave  the  path  of  glory  for  Wagner  with 
the  slain  Italian  and  French  composers.  One  star 
difFereth  from  another  in  its  glory,  but  to  extinguish  all 
save  one  would  be  to  efface  the  constellation. 

Richard  Wagner  had  a  mind  that  seized,  as  by  intui- 
tion, on  a  poetic  or  a  pictorial  idea,  and  then  used  it 
as  the  nucleus  from  which  imaginative  creation  pro- 
ceeded. In  his  earliest  childhood  he  revealed  his 
creative  tendency.  "  At  the  age  of  five,  instead  of 
learning  to  draw  eyes,  he  began  painting  life-size 
portraits  of  kings  ;  at  thirteen  he  began  translating 
Homer's  Odyssey,  and  accomplished  half  of  it."  As  a 
youth  he  wrote  to  a  friend  that  he  had  no  objection  to 
being  attacked  for  musical  theories.  "  I  bring  no 
reconciliation  to  worthlessness,"  he  said,  "but  war 
to  the  knife."  Like  most  prophets,  he  was  stoned 
metaphorically ;  like  all  poets  and  artists,  he  ex- 
perienced the  deep  truth  in  the  lines :  — 

"  Who  ne'er  his  bread  in  sorrow  ate, 

Who  ne'er  the  mournful  midnight  hours 
Weeping  upon  his  bed  he  sate ; 

He  knows  ye  not,  ye  Heavenly  Powers." 

Of  the  production  of  "  Tristan  and  Isolde,"  that  im- 
passioned tragedy  of  love  and  death,  what  words  can 
ever  picture  one  especial  performance  given  of  it  under 
Mr.  Damrosch  with  Klafsky  and  Alvary  in  the  title 
roles  and  Marie  Brema  as  "Brangene."  Herr  Alvary 
was  as  unsurpassed  as  a  great  tenor  and  a  dramatic 
actor  could  well  be ;  but  it  was  in  the  new  revelation 


400  BOSTON    DAYS 


of  the  lyric  and  dramatic  possibilities  of  the  character 
of  Isolde,  made  by  Katherine  Klafsky,  that  a  higher 
note  was  struck  in  the  lyric  drama,  and  qualities  un- 
dreamed of  were  revealed.  Madame  Klafsky  —  whose 
early  death  was  a  signal  loss  to  lyric  art — had  that 
indescribable  magnetism  and  power  of  a  great  artist 
who  creates  new  ideals  of  an  exacting  rdle.  On  the 
day  preceding  this  great  triumphal  occasion,  she  had 
kept  herself  in  silence  and  seclusion  in  her  rooms  in 
the  Hotel  Brunswick,  gathering  as  it  were  her  forces 
from  the  atmosphere.  Of  all  great  operatic  rdles  that 
of  Isolde  is  perhaps  the  most  exacting  in  its  demand  on 
both  lyric  and  dramatic  art.  In  Madame  Klafsky  this 
rare  combination  of  twofold  power  existed.  Her  poses 
recalled  those  of  Rachel,  of  whom  her  friends  said, 
"Elle  pose  toujours."  Never  was  a  crowded  house 
more  entirely  beside  itself  in  enthusiasm  than  in  the 
storm  of  ovation  that  spent  itself  on  this  superb,  im- 
passioned Isolde  in  her  white  and  gold  robes  in  the 
pictorial  scenes  of  this  opera. 

"Tristan  and  Isolde"  with  Lilli  Lehmann  as  the 
heroine  lingers  in  memory.  The  curtain  rises:  Isolde 
is  seen  at  the  left  of  the  stage,  with  bowed  head  con- 
cealed in  her  arms.  The  very  pose  tells  its  own  story. 
It  is  the  abandon  of  grief  and  despair.  Madame 
Lehmann  strikes  the  note  of  tragedy  in  a  high  key  and 
holds  it  firmly  all  through.  This  Isolde  is,  indeed, 
worth  daring  and  dying  for ;  this  intense,  impassioned 
being,  all  color  and  flame  and  energy,  whose  potent 
will  must  transform  for  her  the  entire  world.     Every 


DAWN   OF   THE   TWENTIETH   CENTURY     401 

glance  and  gesture  is  instinct  with  this  electric  energy, 
this  indefinable  and  all-potent  magnetism.  It  sweeps 
one  on,  irresistibly,  into  the  very  heart  of  the  tragedy. 
Studying  Madame  Lehmann's  conception  of  the  charac- 
ter on  this  occasion,  when  all  the  world  about  faded 
away  and  one  only  lived  in  the  impassioned  art  of 
the  great  singer,  it  almost  seemed  as  if  her  face  and 
figure  accorded  better,  perhaps,  with  the  character  than 
would  more  slender  and  girlish  grace.  For  here  was 
no  coy  maiden,  shrinking  even  from  the  lover  she 
adored,  but  a  woman  and  a  princess,  royal  by  both 
rights,  demanding  that  love  should  be  all  in  all,  whether 
for  life  or  for  death.  In  the  garden  scene  Madame  Leh- 
mann  infused  far  more  of  the  electric  intensity  and  less 
of  the  languorous  yielding  than  any  Isolde  save  Madame 
Klafsky.     The  exalte  note  was  held  from  first  to  last. 

And  a  night  of  "  Tannhauser  "  —  that  drama  of  love 
and  death !  Wagner  tells  a  friend  that  he  wrote  this 
opera  "  with  such  consuming  ardor  "  that  the  nearer  he 
approached  the  end  the  more  he  was  haunted  by  the 
idea  that  sudden  death  would  prevent  him  from  com- 
pleting it.  "  It  acted  on  me  like  real  magic,"  he  said. 
"  Whenever  and  wherever  I  took  up  my  theme  I 
was  all  aglow  and  trembling  with  excitement." 
''  Tannhauser "  and  the  vocal  contest  is  a  legend  of 
the  thirteenth  century.  The  title  role,  as  taken  by 
Herr  Rothmuhl ;  Elizabeth,  as  impersonated  by  Frau 
Gadski,  offer  pictures  to  remember  for  a  lifetime. 
Elizabeth,  white-robed,  with  falling  hair,  kneeling  in 
prayer  at  the  wayside    shrine ;    Tannhauser,    returning 

26 


402  BOSTON   DAYS 


in  sorrow  from  his  pilgrimage  to  Rome ;  Wolfram, 
singing  his  song  to  the  evening  star ;  Venus  and  her 
nymphs  in  the  grotto  ;  the  chorus  of  monks  chanting  the 
funeral  dirge  of  Elizabeth  whose  dead  body  is  borne 
on  a  bier ;  the  funeral  procession  with  the  landgrave, 
the  knight,  the  singers,  the  pilgrims,  and  the  Pope's 
staff  covered  with  fresh  green,  —  evidence  of  Tann- 
hauser's  salvation  because  a  maiden  loved  him  and 
died  for  him,  and  thus  wrought  the  miracle,  —  how 
impressive  it  was  in  its  solemn  beauty. 

It  is  with  especial  pride  that  Boston  always  welcomes 
Madame  Lillian  Nordica.  It  is  a  far  cry,  measured  by 
achievement  rather  than  years,  from  the  charming 
Boston  girl,  Lillian  Norton,  who  went  to  Paris  with 
her  wonderful  voice  and  her  own  simple  sweetness  and 
energy  of  purpose,  to  the  great  prima  donna,  Madame 
ISTordica.  Into  these  years  she  has  concentrated  work, 
and  in  them  she  has  achieved  a  phenomenal  develop- 
ment. But  the  secret  of  it  lies  not  only  in  gifts,  but  in 
grace. 

Lillian  Nordica  is  a  woman  of  the  most  beautiful 
temperament  in  the  world.  She  is  sweet,  sunny, 
serene.  She  is  generous  and  loving  and  noble  in  every 
thought  and  purpose.  She  never  misses  an  opportunity 
to  say  the  kind  and  encouraging  word,  to  do  the  help- 
ful act,  to  diffuse  sunny  stimulus  about  her.  And  this 
force  of  character  has,  one  must  needs  believe,  as 
much  to  do  with  her  phenomenal  success  as  her  genius 
and  her  untiring  study.  An  audience  feels  the  force 
of  all  this  sweet  and  noble  and  harmonious  character 


DAWN   OF   THE  TWENTIETH   CENTURY     403 

whenever  she  appears  on  the  stage.  It  may  not  be 
analyzed  or  even  consciously  recognized,  but  all  the 
same  it  makes  its  impress.  It  is  a  force  of  immeasu- 
rable aid  and  all  her  associate  artists  are  helped  by  her 
gladness  in  their  success.  A  "Nordica  night"  is  a 
red-letter  night  in  the  opera  season. 

Always  a  student  is  Madame  Nordica.  It  is  not 
surprising  that  she  has  achieved  so  brilliant  a  triumph 
at  Beireuth,  and  in  all  the  leading  cities,  in  the  Wagner 
music  which  she  interprets  with  such  marvellous  art 
and  impassioned  devotion. 

The  presentation  of  Mr.  Damrosch's  own  opera, 
^'  The  Scarlet  Letter/'  founded  on  Hawthorne's  im- 
mortal romance,  the  libretto  by  George  Parsons 
Lathrop,  the  son-in-law  of  Hawthorne,  and  the  music 
by  Mr.  Damrosch  himself,  was  a  memorable  event  in 
Boston  ;  and  the  theatre  was  crowded  with  the  beauty 
and  genius,  fashion  and  fame,  learning  and  loveliness 
of  Boston  and  Cambridge. 

The  performance  had  an  inevitable  intensity  of  in- 
terest due  to  the  fact  that  the  scene  of  Hawthorne's 
greatest  romance  was  laid  in  this  city ;  that  his 
name  is  one  to  conjure  with ;  that  the  scenery  was 
that  which  should  bid  the  dead  past  rise,  as  if  touched 
by  an  enchanter's  wand,  and  reveal  the  Boston  of  two 
hundred  and  fifty  years  ago.  The  entire  action  of 
the  story  of  ^'  The  Scarlet  Letter  "  takes  place  within 
a  small  district  of  Boston  —  lying  between  Cornhill 
and  Temple  Place,  on  the  north  and  south,  between 
Tremont  Street  and  the  harbor  on  the  west  and  east. 


404  BOSTON   DAYS 

The  house  of  the  "worshipful  Governor  Bellingham " 
stood  on  the  site  now  occupied  by  a  dry-goods  house 
on  the  corner  of  Beacon  and  Tremont  streets  ;  the  old 
jail,  where  Hawthorne  pictured  Hester  as  imprisoned, 
was  on  Cornhill ;  the  old  market  place  down  near  the 
harbor.  At  that  time  (1636)  there  were  two  hundred 
and  fifty  inhabitants  in  Boston,  the  beautiful  harbor 
was  in  sight  from  every  house  in  the  settlement,  — 
certainly  a  vast  scenic  advantage  over  the  present,  — 
and  the  hut  supposed  to  be  occupied  by  Hester  Prynne, 
on  the  edge  of  the  forest,  was  on  "  the  Neck/'  now  in 
the  heart  of  the  city. 

It  was  a  number  of  years  ago  when  Mr.  Damrosch 
first  read  the  story  of  "  The  Scarlet  Letter "  that  the 
idea  of  translating  it  into  opera  began  to  haunt  his 
imagination.  For  Walter  Damrosch  is  not  merely  a 
man  of  talent  and  the  finest  musical  culture  ;  but  he  is 
a  great  original  genius ;  his  mind  is  of  that  imaginative 
and  exquisitely  touched  quality  which  renders  him 
capable  of  vast  creative  achievements,  and  in  Mr. 
Damrosch  there  is  one  of  the  most  marked  and  im- 
pressive characters  that  the  world  has  seen  during  the 
past  three  centuries. 

"  Spirits  are  not  finely  touched 
But  to  fine  issues." 

The  spirit  of  Walter  Damrosch  is  indeed  of  that  order 
of  the  "  finely  touched,"  the  divinely  commissioned. 

"  Gradually,"  says  Mr.  Damrosch,  in  speaking  the 
first  stirring  intimations  of  his  work,  "  gradually,  while 


DAWN   OF   THE   TWENTIETH    CENTURY     405 

readiug  the  story,  I  began  to  divide  it  into  acts ;  and 
as  I  read  and  reread  Hawthorne's  great  creation, 
musical  themes  suggested  themselves  to  me.  But  I 
could  do  nothing  definite,  as  I  looked  in  vain  for  a  poet 
sufficiently  sympathetic  to  collaborate  with  the  require- 
ments of  music." 

"  The  Scarlet  Letter  "  did  not  score  a  popular  success 
as  an  opera,  yet  its  production  in  Hawthorne's  city  was 
an  event  of  no  little  interest.  The  scenes  of  the  dress- 
rehearsal  linger  in  the  memory  of  those  present.  The 
great  auditorium  of  the  Boston  Theatre  was  but  fitfully 
lighted  with  chance  gleams  from  the  stage.  The  high 
tiers  of  boxes  looked  ghostly  and  wraithlike  in  their 
white  linen  shroudings,  that  fell  from  the  ceiling  to  the 
floor.  The  great  musical  critics  from  Philadelphia  and 
New  York  and  Boston  were  all  present,  with  a  sprinkling 
of  press-correspondents,  and  a  few  friends,  especially 
invited.  The  little  audience  of  the  most  intensely  inter- 
ested people  bestowed  themselves  here  and  there  with 
subdued  whisperings  and  a  thrill  of  expectancy.  The 
scene  that  met  their  eyes  was  truly  edifying.  The 
background  of  the  first  scene  in  the  opera  is  a  view  of 
the  blue  waters  and  sailing  craft  of  Boston  Harbor, 
but  the  sea  was  hanging  midway  in  the  air,  and  the 
dislocated  ships  seemed  about  to  be  precipitated  upon 
the  fair  head  of  Madame  Gadski.  The  pillory  on  which 
Hester  was  to  stand  was  placed  tentatively  on  the  stage, 
and  the  rosebush  that  blossomed  by  the  old  market 
place  lopped  sadly  on  one  side. 

However,  the  sea  was  soon  pulled  down  by  cords 


406  BOSTON   DAYS 


into  its  appropriate  place,  where  the  blue  waters  met 
the  eye  in  their  accustomed  relations  of  space ;  the 
rosebush  was  restored  to  its  original  intention ;  the 
pretty  figure  of  Johanna  Gadski  was  no  longer  in  dan- 
ger from  the  ships  in  the  air,  and  Mr.  Damrosch  grasped 
the  baton,  which  in  his  hands  is  a  magician's  wand. 
There  is  a  beautiful  experiment  in  physics  where,  when 
a  note  in  music  is  struck,  the  particles  of  sand  on  a  tray 
arrange  themselves  in  crystals.  One  is  always  reminded 
of  this  when  Mr.  Damrosch  ascends  the  conductor's 
stand  and  grasps  the  baton.  Instantly  life  begins. 
Everything  falls  into  order. 

To  see  him  conduct  a  rehearsal  was  a  new  experience. 
If  a  singer  was  out  of  tune  Mr.  Damrosch  could  sing 
the  bar  and  restore  the  key;  if  a  player  failed,  on 
whatever  instrument,  the  conductor  could  put  him  right 
again.  In  the  acting,  the  orchestration,  the  singing,  — 
there  was  no  phase  of  operatic  art  that  he  could  not 
personally  direct  with  the  unanswerable  authority  that 
comes  of  absolute  mastery  of  every  branch  of  the  work. 
For  three  consecutive  times  the  chorus  would  be  sent 
trooping  back  to  make  their  entrance  again;  to  his 
orchestra  Mr.  Damrosch  spoke  entirely  in  German,  as 
few  of  them  understood  English. 

The  premiere  came ;  the  curtain  went  up  on  the  first 
scene  with  the  harbor  in  its  rightful  place  rather  than 
hanging  in  the  air,  and  the  rosebush  growing  according 
to  the  due  laws  of  nature.  Prof.  Charles  Eliot  Norton, 
with  his  guest,  Prince  Wolkonsky,  President  Eliot, 
Mrs.   Leopold  Damrosch,    Clayton  Johns,  Mrs.   Julia 


DAWN   OF   THE   TWENTIETH    CENTURY     407 

Ward  Howe,  and  Madame  Melba  were  among  those  in 
the  audience. 

The  story  of  "  The  Scarlet  Letter  "  was  represented 
in  three  acts,  in  which,  from  beginning  to  end,  there 
was  not  a  dull  moment,  —  not  a  moment,  indeed,  that  is 
not  intense  in  interest.  The  child  Pearl  is  supposed  to 
have  died  in  prison.  This  point  is  told  in  the  words  of 
Rev.  John  Wilson  to  Hester :  — 

"  Hester  Prynne,  hearken  ! 
Thy  husband  absent 
Far  beyond  the  sea, 
A  child  to  thee  was  born, 
Bringing  disgrace  and  scorn. 
Heaven's  wise  decree 
Hath  taken  thy  daughter  away, 
Wafted  on  wings  of  death." 

Then  the  venerable  minister  implored  his  young  col- 
league, Arthur  Dimmesdale,  to  strive  with  Hester,  and 
as  the  partner  of  her  guilt  is  about  to  speak,  the  terrible 
sarcasm  of  the  chorus  wafts  these  words  regarding 
Dimmesdale :  — 

"  0  wise  and  childlike, 
Simple  and  pure. 
With  words  of  an  angel  he  speaks." 

Then  come  the  words  of  Arthur  to  Hester  : 


"  If  peace  to  thee  it  would  give. 
And  thy  spirit  make  whole 
Or  hope  of  salvation  insure. 
Tell  his  name  who  with  thee  now  suffers, 
Though  hiding  his  guilty  heart. 
High  or  low,  spare  him  not  from  the  ban. 


408  BOSTON   DAYS 


Eemember,  he  is  not  exempted 

From  the  doom  that  shadows  thee. 

Think  ere  thou  repliest, 

For  if  the  truth  thou  deniest. 

Oh,  Hester,  Hester  ! 

His  soul  with  thine  condemned  may  be." 

Again,  the  terrible  mockery  of  the  chorus  is  heard :  — 


"  Too  sharp  the  stress 
Of  grief  that  he  feels  for  the  wanton's  woe." 

And  Arthur :  — 

"Ay,  tell  them  who  tempted  thee." 

And  Hester,  in  a  voice  of  the  saddest  sweetness :  — 

"  From  me  the  world  shall  never  know  his  name." 

The  terrible  Roger  Chillingworth  then  shouts  from 
the  crowd :  — 

"Ay,  woman,  speak," 


Hester  recognizes  his  voice,  and,  in  startled  agitation 
sings :  — 

"  Ha,  that  voice ! 
No  !  No  !  Thrice  no  to  thee  !     My  child  hath  found 
A  heavenly  father.    Ye  shall  never  know  his  earthly  one." 

The  first  scene  is  one  of  the  most  beautiful  in  scenic 
perfection.  Irving  himself,  that  master  of  stage  art, 
never  devised  a  more  beautiful  pictorial  effect.  In  the 
forest  (as  told  in  the  romance)  Hester  and  Arthur  meet, 
and  he  says  :  — 


DAWN   OF   THE   TWENTIETH   CENTURY     409 

"  Ah,  better,  far  better, 
To  wear  that  raiment 


Woe  unto  me ! 
My  letter  in  secret  still  doth  burn 
With  a  pain  that  never  and  never  dies. 

I  hear  the  accusing  voice ; 
*  Thou,  consecrate  and  placed 
O'er  men  to  teach  them  purity, 
False  art  thou  to  thy  trust  I ' 

Had  I  one  friend 

Or  a  foe  —  the  worst  — 

To  whom  I  might  bend 

Each  day  and  be  known  as  a  sinner  vile, 

E'en  so  much  of  truth  might  reconcile. 

My  soul  to  life.  ..." 

Then  Hester :  — 

"  Such  a  friend  thou  hast, 
Behold,  in  me, 

O'er  the  bitter  present,  the  vanished  past, 
Of  thy  sin  and  mine 
To  weep  with  thee." 

The  orchestration  is  Wagnerian  in  that  it  has  all  that 
fulness  and  richness  of  the  master,  after  whom,  indeed, 
all  else  seems  as  water  after  wine,  and  as  moonlight 
after  sunlight.  Walter  Damrosch  is  far  more  than  a 
disciple  of  Wagner.  His  genius  is  of  the  same  immortal 
type. 

As  the  curtain  fell  the  picture  was  memorable.  The 
stage  was  set  with  the  forest  scene,  —  a  wild,  deep  glade, 
when  a  glow  of  sunshine  fell  in  the  middle  distance^ 


410  BOSTON   DAYS 


and  mossy  rocks  and  a  fallen  tree  and  exquisite  group- 
ing and  glancing  lights  gave  the  background  to  the 
slight,  youthful,  scliolarly-looking  artist  as  he  responded 
to  the  enthusiasm  and  stood  before  the  footlights.  Mrs. 
Leopold  Damrosch  (the  mother  of  the  artist),  in  a  black 
gown  with  diamonds  and  sapphires  at  her  throat,  looked 
down  from  her  box  on  the  scene  of  four  thousand  people 
applauding  her  son.  The  orchestra  waited,  instruments 
in  hand,  looking  proudly  on  their  leader.  Fraulein 
Gadski,  in  her  amethyst  and  white  robes,  her  fair 
hair  flowing  to  her  waist,  Herr  Berthold,  the  Arthur 
Dimmesdale  of  the  cast,  Herr  Mertens,  whose  Roger 
Chillingworth  will  rank  as  one  of  the  great  impersona- 
tions of  the  lyric  stage,  —  all  stood  grouped  about. 

Mr.  Damrosch's  speech  was  very  simple  and  adequate, 
expressing  the  debt  of  gratitude  due  first  of  all  to  Haw- 
thorne ;  then  to  his  talented  son-in-law,  George  Parsons 
Lathrop,  who  had  composed  the  libretto,  and  to  his 
singers  and  his  fellow-artists,  the  orchestra. 

At  the  close  Mr.  Damrosch  was'presented  with  laurel 
wreaths  enough  to  decorate  all  the  crowned  heads  of 
Europe  or  the  great  masters  of  music,  and  at  the  end 
of  the  opera  more  laurel  wreaths  and  a  silver  vase  filled 
with  American  Beauty  roses. 

The  death  of  the  poet  Whittier  in  September  of  1892 
came  on  a  morning  that  dawned  in  a  splendor  of  rose 
and  pearl  and  gold ;  and  it  seemed  a  fitting  hour  for 
the  soul  of  our  saintliest  poet  to  be  set  free  from  its 
earthly  tabernacle  to  live  wholly  in  that  spiritual  world 
which  his  eye  had  seen,  and  his  heart  conceived,  and 


DAWN   OF   THE   TWENTIETH   CENTURY     411 

his  pen  portrayed  during  his  long  and  beautiful  life. 
There  was  something  significant  —  something  one  loves 
to  dwell  upon  —  in  Mr.  Whittier's  going  forth  from 
the  earthly  to  heavenly  in  this  earliest  hint  of  dawn. 
It  was  not  yet  sunrise,  but  the  world  was  flooded  with 
light,  —  so  pure,  so  beautiful,  so  quivering  with  faint, 
opalescent  gleams  of  the  dawn,  that  it  was  a  wonder- 
world —  a  miracle  world.  One  looked  out  upon  it 
and  thought  of  Paradise  Gloria.  It  must  remain  a 
picture  enshrined  in  memory,  —  that  morning  when, 
with  the  earliest  dawn,  the  poet  Whittier  put  off*  the 
mortal  and  put  on  immortality.  One  could  not  but 
think  of  the  expression  of  being  ^^  clothed  with  light  as 
with  a  garment,  "  of  being  "  clothed  with  glory,"  so 
fair  in  its  hush  of  dawning  splendor  were  the  early 
hours  of  that  day,  so  beautiful  was  the  scene,  in  the 
glory  of  sea  and  of  sky,  on  which  his  soul  went  forth. 
Who  may  tell  us  what  dawned  upon  his  spiritual 
vision  ?  "  It  is  beautiful,"  Mrs.  Browning  said  in  her 
last  moment  as  she  went.  If  ever  the  heavenly  vision 
shone  around  a  life  it  attended  that  of  John  Greenleaf 
Whittier.     The  entire  world  has  been  left 

" the  better  for  his  being 

And  gladder  for  his  human  speech." 

Mr.  Whittier  never  journeyed  far  from  his  native  "New 
England,  yet  his  life  could  in  no  sense  be  called  a  nar- 
row one,  for  sympathy  and  imagination  are  wings,  and 
with  their  magic,  though  one  may  not  go  to  all  the  world, 
all  the  world  comes  to  him.     Without  that  which  we 


412  BOSTON   DAYS 


are  accustomed  to  call  the  culture  of  art,  society,  and 
travel ;  without  a  university  education,  or  any  of  the 
more  obvious  channels,  he  was  yet  largely  in  touch 
with  the  world.  He  did  not  grasp  it  through  the 
appointed  means,  but  all  the  same  he  possessed  its  best 
results.  The  winged  nature  need  not  tread  every  step 
of  the  path  ;  it  can  fly. 

The  world  in  which  Mr.  Whittier  lived  transcended 
even  the  best  that  this  world  can  offer,  and  still  those 
who  think  of  him  as  in  any  sense  dreamy,  unpractical, 
and  impracticable,  would  fail  to  grasp  his  character. 
He  was  intensely  practical,  but  he  was  not  material. 
There  is  a  difference.  His  life  dealt  with  actualities. 
He  had  the  manly,  vigorous  fibre  of  New  England,  and 
the  prominent  and  active  part  he  took  in  all  the  aboli- 
tion movements  and  antislavery  work  proved  him  no 
formless  dreamer.  It  is  the  idealist  who  is  most  truly 
practical,  or  at  least  practicable ;  it  is  he  who  lives  in 
spiritual  realities  who  most  truly  lives.  Mr.  Whittier 
was  no  stranger  to  manly  indignation  at  corruption  and 
wrong,  though  he  was  meek  and  lowly  of  heart.  His 
was  not  a  nature  to  ever  allow  itself  to  be  "melted 
down  for  the  benefit  of  the  tallow  trade."  That  is  not 
the  New  England  fibre.  He  was  a  poet.  He  was 
dowered  with  the  poet's 

"  Hate  of  hate,  the  scorn  of  scorn,  the  love  of  love." 

He  not  only  had  the  vision,  but  the  practical  cast  of 
thought  to  apply  his  ideals  as  tests  of  life  —  to  raise  all 
life  to  a  purer  plane.     He  was  a  fervent  patriot,  and 


DAWN   OF   THE   TWENTIETH    CENTURY     413 

was  always  deeply  interested  in  national  and  inter- 
national politics,  in  affairs  at  large,  in  events,  and  in 
movements.  The  reformer  and  the  idealist,  in  the  best 
sense  of  each,  are  always  united. 

If  Mr.  Whittier's  life  were  to  be  summed  up  in  the 
significance  of  one  word,  that  word  would  be  influence. 
Wendell  Phillips  was  pre-eminently  the  agitator,  Mr. 
AVhittier  as  pre-eminently  the  influencer  if  one  may  coin 
the  word.     It  is  the  singer 

"  Who  lives  forever, 
While  the  toiler  dies  in  a  day," 

and  Mr.  Whittier's  life  would  quite  fulfil  the  tradi- 
tional power  over  a  nation  held  by  one  who  writes  its 
songs  rather  than  by  one  who  makes  its  laws. 

Whittier  was  a  prolific  letter-writer,  and  while  he 
had  not  the  classic  polish  of  Longfellow  or  the  wit  of 
Holmes,  his  letters  are  full  of  quaint  humor,  of  tender 
and  noble  feeling,  of  charm  of  allusion  that  make  them 
pleasant  reading.  In  1888  he  writes  to  Mrs.  James  T. 
Fields  in  reply  to  her  tidings  that  she  was  convalesc- 
ing from  an  illness,  and  that  Lowell  was  reading  to 
her.  In  reply  to  this  Whittier  says  :  "  Sitting  by  the 
peat  fire  listening  to  Lowell's  reading  of  his  own 
verses !  A  convalescent  princess  with  her  minstrel  in 
attendance." 

To  Dr.  Holmes,  under  date  of  Nov.  9, 1891,  he  writes: 

"  Dear  Holmes,  —  The  last  and  noblest  word  has  been 
spoken  by  thy  lines  on  Lowell.  As  a  work  of  artistic 
beauty  and  fitness  it  has  no  equal  in  our  literature.     It 


414  BOSTON   DAYS 


will  last  as  loDg  as  his  Ode  on  Lincoln,  and  that  is  saying 
much.  Thanks  to  our  heavenly  Father  that  he  has  been 
given  the  power  to  write  it." 

Letters  to  Lydia  Maria  Child,  to  Lowell,  Whipple, 
Holmes,  Longfellow,  Elizabeth  Stuart  Phelps,  and  all 
the  familiar  Boston  circle  of  letters  offer  much  of  in- 
terest and  insight  into  the  literary  life  of  the  city 
between  1840-90. 

A  characteristic  letter  of  Whittier's  to  Whipple  is  as 
follows : 

Oak  Knoll,  Danvers,  Nov.  25,  1880. 

My  Dear  Whipple,  —  I  am  always  glad  to  hear  from 
thee  and  I  gave  thy  letter  a  hearty  welcome.  I  hope 
when  the  summer  comes  that  thou  and  Mrs.  Whipple  will 
run  out  here  and  see  me,  for  I  am  admonished  by  many 
tokens  that  the  time  is  short,  and  that  I  must  make  the 
most  of  the  present  time  and  the  friends  who  are  left  me. 

I  would  be  happy  to  meet  the  wonderful  violinist  at 
thy  house.  If  I  am  able  —  just  now  I  am  suffering  too 
much  with  my  head  and  eyes  to  listen  even  with  any 
satisfaction  to  the  harp  of  Orpheus  —  I  will  try  to  arrange 
it.  I  am  greatly  obliged  to  him  for  thinking  of  me  and 
volunteering  to  play  for  me. 

I  missed  thee  at  the  Holmes  breakfast.  It  was  a  nice 
tribute.     I  was  only  able  to  stay  an  hour  or  so. 

Give  my  kindest  regards  to  Mrs.  Whipple,  and  believe 
me  always  most  truly  thy  friend, 

John  G.  Whittier. 

Among  American  poets  that  universal  recognition 
which,  for  want  of  a  better  term,  we  call  popularity, 
would  lie  between  Mr.  Longfellow  and  Mr.  Whittier. 


i 


DAWN   OF   THE   TWENTIETH   CENTURY     415 

It  is,  perhaps,  true  that  the  Quaker  poet  exerted  a 
dh-ect  moral  influence  over  his  country  that  has  never 
in  any  age  or  any  country  been  equalled.  He  was  as 
potent  in  the  realm  of  spirituality  as  Goethe  was  in 
that  of  intellect.  Until  we  view  his  remarkable  influ- 
ence in  its  wholeness  its  totally  unrivalled  character 
could  not  be  adequately  appreciated,  yet  this  power  of 
influence  when  analyzed  presents  anomalies.  Mr.  Whit- 
tier  was  devoid  of  collegiate  culture  ;  he  grew  up  in  the 
scenery  of  provincial,  of  rustic  life ;  he  did  not  draw 
from  the  sources  of  travel,  of  contact  with  great  men 
or  great  literatures,  —  all  this  cosmopolitan  culture  of 
travel,  art,  society,  was  outside  his  life;  and  still  he 
was  not  provincial ;  his  interests  were  as  wide  as  the 
world  of  events  and  of  humanity.  Probably  no  one 
of  the  greater  poets  have  ever  owed  so  little  to  what 
we  ordinarily  term  sources  of  culture  as  Mr.  Whittier, 
and  the  reason  lies  in  the  simple  fact  that  he  drew 
strength  and  vision  directly  from  the  spiritual  world, 
which  to  him  was  ever  present  and  real. 

"  Ah,  I  have  friends  in  spirit  land," 

he  wrote : 

"  Not  shadows,  in  a  shadowy  band, 
Not  others,  but  themselves  are  they." 

And  again  the  poet  would  have  us 

—  "  stretch  our  hands  in  darkness 

And  call  our  loved  ones  o'er  and  o'er ; 

Some  day  their  arms  shall  close  about  us 
And  the  old  voices  speak  once  more." 


416  BOSTON   DAYS 


His  vision  of  the  invisible  world  is  always  clear, 
simple,  and  direct.  It  was  the  world  in  which  he 
lived,  although  this  manly,  vigorous,  earnest  nature 
was  no  cloistered  and  ascetic  saint ;  he  was  a  re- 
former, a  man  with  ever-active  interest  in  politics, 
with  ever-present  sympathy  in  all  the  movements  that 
make  for  progress.  After  the  heroic  days  of  the 
Antislavery  Crusade,  his  active  sympathies  were  with 
temperance,  with  labor  reform,  with  the  higher  educa- 
tion and  political  enfranchisement  of  women,  with  all 
the  forces  that  are  evolving  the  higher  issues  of  hu- 
manity. His  life  has  stood  for  all  that  is  most  typically 
noble  in  American  manhood. 

As  a  poet,  he  combines  the  rarest  excellences.  To 
flexible  and  musical  form,  to  the  spontaneous  lyric  gift, 
he  has  added  the  vigorous  and  noble  outlook  in  life, 
the  tenderly  helpful  and  uplifting  spiritual  vision.  It 
is  more  than  an  open  question  whether  all  the  sermons 
of  this  century  have  done  so  much  to  spiritualize  life 
as  have  Whittier's  "Our  Master"  and  ''The  Eternal 
Goodness." 

Mr.  Stedman,  in  an  estimate  of  Mr.  Whittier  as  one 
"  who  left  to  silence  his  personal  experience,"  and  who, 
"  like  a  celibate  priest,  was  the  consoler  of  the  hearts 
of  others  and  the  keeper  of  his  own,"  adds  : 

"His  traits,  moreover,  have  begotten  a  sentiment  of 
public  affection  which,  from  its  constant  manifestation, 
is  not  to  be  overlooked  in  any  judgment  of  his  career. 
In  recognition  of  a  beautiful  character,  critics  have  not 
found  it  needful  to  measure  the  native  bard  with  tape 


DAWN   OF   THE  TWENTIETH  CENTURY     417 

and  calipers.  His  service  and  the  spirit  of  it  offset  the 
blemishes  which  it  is  their  wont  to  condemn  in  poets 
whose  exploits  are  merely  technical.  A  life  is  on  his 
written  page ;  these  are  the  chants  of  a  soldier,  and  anon 
the  hymnal  of  a  saint.  Contemporary  honor  is  not  the 
final  test,  but  it  has  its  proper  bearing,  —  as  in  the  case 
of  Mrs.  Browning,  whom  I  have  called  the  most  beloved 
of  English  poets." 

Whittier's  audience  has  been  won  by  unaffected  pic- 
tures of  the  scenes  to  which  he  was  bred,  by  the  purity 
of  his  nature,  and  even  more  by  the  earnestness  audible 
in  his  songs,  injurious  as  it  sometimes  is  to  their  ar- 
tistic purpose.  Like  the  English  sibyl,  he  has  obeyed 
the  heavenly  vision,  and  the  verse  of  poets  who  still 
trust  their  inspiration  has  its  material,  as  well  as  spirit- 
ual, ebb  and  flow. 

It  must  be  owned  that  Goethe's  calm  distinction 
between  the  poetry  of  humanity  and  poetry  of  a  high 
ideal  is  fully  illustrated  in  Whittier's  reform  verse. 
Yet  even  his  failings  have  '^  leaned  to  virtue's  side." 
Those  who  gained  strength  from  his  music  to  en- 
dure defeat  and  obloquy  cherish  him  with  a  devotion 
beyond  measure.  For  his  righteous  and  tender  heart 
they  would  draw  him  with  their  own  hands,  over 
paths  strewed  with  lilies,  to  a  shrine  of  peace  and 
remembrance. 

One  of  the  pleasant  social  occasions  in  the  life  of 
Mr.  Whittier  was  a  reception  given  for  him  by  ex- 
Governor  and  Mrs.  William  Claflin  at  their  spacious 
home  in  Mt.  Vernon  Street.     This  was  almost  or  quite 

27 


418  BOSTON   DAYS 


the  last  meeting  of  many  of  the  old  antislavery  work- 
ers ;  and  beside  the  guest  of  honor,  Mr.  Whittier,  there 
were  present  Rev.  Samuel  J.  May,  Dr.  Henry  B.  Black- 
well  and  Mrs.  Lucy  Stone,  Miss  Anne  Whitney,  Mrs. 
Abby  Morton  Diaz,  Mrs.  Cheney,  Mrs.  Howe,  Mr. 
Frank  B.  Sanborn,  and  others. 

After  nearly  all  the  guests  had  gone,  Mrs.  Claflin, 
with  Mr.  Whittier  at  her  side,  Mrs.  Abby  Morton  Diaz, 
and  a  few  others,  were  seated  at  the  informal  tea-table. 
Mrs.  Claflin  turned  to  Mr.  Whittier  and  said,  playfully, 
in  allusion  to  a  remark  he  had  made  (with  his  char- 
acteristic modesty,  that  these  people  she  had  invited 
would  not  come  merely  to  meet  him,  or  something  to 
that  effect) :  '^  Mr.  Whittier,  you  see  they  did  come." 
'^Ah,  but  every  one  would  be  glad  to  come  to  see 
thee,"  he  rejoined,  with  graceful  chivalry. 

Hon.  William  Claflin  served  two  or  three  terms  as 
governor  of  the  Commonwealth  and  held  a  worthy 
place  among  a  long  line  of  famous  men  from  "the 
worshipful  Governor  Bradford"  to  the  present  execu- 
tive. Governor  Crane,  —  a  line  including  the  great 
war-governor,  John  A.  Andrew,  and  the  well-beloved 
Roger  Wolcott.  Mrs.  Claflin,  whose  death  in  1896 
left  vacant  a  place  in  social  and  philanthropic  inter- 
ests, was  a  graceful  hostess  who  made  a  fine  art  of 
entertaining.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Claflin  were  of  that  typi- 
cal New  England  quality  which  our  country  recognizes 
as  its  best  citizenship,  whether  it  be  found  in  Maine  or 
Texas. 

They  began  their  married  life  with  scanty  means,  and 


4 


DAWN  OF  THE  TWENTIETH   CENTURY     419 

lived  in  a  simple  way,  near  Framingham,  rich  only  in 
love  and  happiness.  By  his  own  integrity  and  good 
management  Mr.  Claflin  amassed  a  large  fortune,  and 
they  established  a  beautiful  home  in  Newton,  calling 
their  estate  "  The  Old  Elms."  They  also  had  a  town 
house,  which  still  remains  one  of  the  most  pleasant  of 
the  spacious  old  mansions  of  an  earlier  day.  Their 
houses  became  the  scenes  of  the  most  charming  hospi- 
tality. Mr.  Whittier  was  deeply  attached  to  them,  and 
always  made  his  home  with  the  Claflin s  when  in  Boston. 
Mrs.  Stowe  was  a  frequent  guest,  as  were  also  Henry 
Ward  Beecher,  Charles  Sumner,  Hon.  Salmon  P.  Chase, 
Longfellow,  Dr.  Holmes,  ex-President  and  Mrs.  Hayes, 
Miss  Edna  Dean  Proctor,  Elizabeth  Stuart  Phelps,  and 
a  host  of  others.  It  was  at  their  country  house,  "  The 
Old  Elms,"  that  the  seventieth  birthday  of  Mrs.  Stowe 
was  celebrated  by  one  of  the  most  brilliant  literary  com- 
panies ever  assembled.  Among  those  present  were 
Henry  Ward  Beecher,  Dr.  Holmes,  Mr.  Trowbridge, 
Colonel  Higginson,  Miss  Phelps  (now  Mrs.  Ward), 
Mrs.  A.  D.  T.  Whitney,  Mr.  Howells,  and  Mr.  Aldrich. 
It  vv^as  on  that  occasion  that  Mrs.  Stowe  remarked,  as 
she  stood  on  the  raised  dais  to  respond  to  all  the  felici- 
tations offered  her :  "  My  friends,  always  believe  this : 
Everything  that  ought  to  happen  is  always  going  to 
happen." 

Mr.  Claflin  has  known  many  notable  men  and  brings 
them  vividly  before  the  listener  when  speaking  of 
them.  The  long  life  of  more  than  eighty  years 
which   the    ex-governor    has    seen    has    included    the 


420  BOSTON    DAYS 


most  eventful  period  of  the  century,  and  almost,  per- 
haps, of  the  world's  history.  The  Boston  of  1818  and 
the  Boston  of  the  Twentieth  century  have  little  in  com- 
mon with  each  other ;  and  he  has  seen  the  introduction 
of  railroads,  the  invention  of  the  steamships  and  of  the 
telegraph,  the  progress  of  the  Civil  War,  the  accession 
of  Queen  Victoria  and  Edward  VII.  to  the  throne,  the 
exploration  and  civilization  of  all  the  country  west  of 
the  Mississippi  River,  the  overthrow  of  slavery,  to  say 
nothing  of  all  the  later  great  electric  inventions  and 
the  changes  in  politics  and  society.  If  the  ex-governor 
were  to  write  his  memoirs  they  would  be  deeply  inter- 
esting. There  are  few  of  the  famous  folk,  of  our  own 
country  or  of  visiting  foreigners,  statesmen,  authors, 
artists,  actors,  reformers,  inventors,  or  great  scholars, 
who  have  not  been  entertained  by  Governor  and  Mrs. 
Claflin. 

Any  remembrance  of  Mr.  Whittier  recalls  vividly  his 
lifelong  friend  and  co-worker,  Lydia  Maria  Child,  to 
whom  he  refers  as 

"  The  worthiest  of  our  narrowing  circle," 

in  a  poem  addressed  to  her  on  reading  her  lines  on 
Ellis  Gray  Loring,  published  in  a  journal  of  the  time. 
This  is  one  of  Mr.  Whittier's  sweetest  lyrics.  The 
opening  stanzas  run  :  — 

"  The  sweet  spring  day  is  glad  with  music, 
But  through  it.  sounds  a  sadder  strain  ; 
The  worthiest  of  our  narrowing  circle 
Sings  Loring's  dirges  o'er  again. 


DAWN   OF   THE   TWENTIETH    CENTURY     421 

"  0  woman  greatly  loved  !     I  join  thee 
In  tender  memories  of  oar  friend  ; 
With  thee  across  the  awful  spaces 
The  greeting  of  a  soul  I  send  ! 

"  What  cheer  hath  he  ?     How  is  it  with  him  ? 
Where  lingers  he  this  weary  while  ? 
Over  what  pleasant  fields  of  Heaven 
Dawns  the  sweet  sunrise  of  his  smile  ?  " 

After  her  death  (on  Oct.  20,  1880)  he  wrote  of 
her  a  memorial  poem,  entitled  "  Within  the  Gate,"  in 
which  occur  the  lines :  — 

"  Not  for  brief  days  thy  generous  sympathies, 
Thy  scorn  of  selfish  ease  ; 
Not  for  the  poor  prize  of  an  earthly  goal 
Thy  strong  uplift  of  soul." 

There  is  a  rhythmic  completeness  in  the  life  of  Mr. 
Whittier  that  appeals  to  the  imagination,  and  it  is  for- 
ever beautiful  to  remember  that  the  last  work  of  his 
hand  was  the  birthday  poem  to  Dr.  Holmes,  just  nine 
days  before  his  death,  the  poem  closing  with  these 
lines  :  — 

"  The  hour  draws  near,  howe'er  delayed  and  late. 
When  at  the  Eternal  Gate, 
We  leave  the  words  and  works  we  call  our  own 
And  lift  void  hands  alone 

"  For  love  to  fill.     Our  nakedness  of  soul 
Brings  to  that  Gate  no  toll ; 
Giftless  we  come  to  Him,  who  all  things  gives, 
And  live  because  He  lives." 

Among  Mrs.  Claflin's  guests  on  this  occasion  of  her 
reception  for  Mr.  Whittier,  Mrs.  Diaz  was  a  very  inter- 


422  BOSTON   DAYS 


esting  figure.  A  native  of  Plymouth  and  one  who 
entered  on  literary  life  by  the  most  approved  strait  gate, 
if  not  the  narrow  way,  of  the  "  Atlantic  Monthly,"  her 
work  broadened  into  something  that  came  to  include 
literature  rather  than  to  be  exclusively  absorbed  in  it. 
Her  early  stories  that  appeared  in  the  "Atlantic 
Monthly  "  have  been  followed  by  the  "  William  Henry 
Letters,"  "  Bybury  to  Beacon  Street,"  "  Domestic  Prob- 
lems," and  "  The  John  Spicer  Letters,"  and  a  number 
of  stories  and  sketches  contributed  to  various  periodi- 
cals have  won  for  her  wide  literary  fame.  Yet  far 
beyond  any  conceivable  prestige  of  fame  in  literary  pro- 
duction, is  the  simple,  direct,  sympathetic,  and  sparkling 
presence  of  Mrs.  Diaz.  She  might  have  been  an  artist, 
a  danseuse,  a  stage  manager,  a  singer,  quite  as  well  as  a 
writer,  a  lecturer,  an  organizer  of  philanthropic  and 
economic  work,  and  the  mistress  of  a  home  whose 
atmosphere  is  all  sunshine.  It  is  related  that  Prof. 
Charles  Eliot  Norton  was  so  charmed  with  the  spirit  of 
the  "William  Henry  Letters"  that  he  inquired  as  to 
the  identity  of  the  author,  and  soon  after  secured  her 
aid  in  educating  his  own  children. 

The  opening  of  the  new  Public  Library  in  Copley 
Square  was  an  epoch-making  event  in  the  nineties,  — 
an  event  the  more  significant  in  the  installation  of  so 
remarkable  a  librarian  as  Mr.  Herbert  Putnam,  who, 
on  his  resignation  to  accept  the  office  of  Librarian  of 
the  Congressional  Library,  was  succeeded  by  the 
present  able  and  learned  man  who  administers  it 
so  wisely,  —  James  W.  Whitney,  LL.D. 


DAWN   OF   THE   TWENTIETH   CENTURY     423 

Mr.  Whitney  shares  Mr.  Putnam's  ideal  in  conceiving 
of  his  office  as  an  active  and  not  as  a  passive  one.  The 
true  work  of  a  public  library  is  not  merely  to  offer  — 
however  freely  and  easily  —  supplies  to  those  who  ask, 
to  meet  the  demands  that  are  made ;  but,  beyond  this, 
to  increase  the  number  who  will  ask ;  to  constantly 
extend  and  multiply  the  demands.  This  is  a  new  de- 
parture in  the  conduct  of  great  libraries.  Mr.  Whitney 
is  accessible  personally;  he  does  away  with  all  use- 
less rubbish  of  red  tape;  he  has  the  people's  interest 
thoroughly  at  heart ;  he  discriminates  swiftly  and  clearly 
between  the  essential  and  the  non-essential. 

The  mural  art  of  the  Library,  representing  the  im- 
mortal work  of  Puvis  de  Chavannes,  John  S.  Sargent, 
and  Edwin  A.  Abbey,  with  one  ceiling  of  unique  beauty 
by  John  Elliott,  is  among  the  finest  in  the  modern  world. 
These  paintings  rival  in  interest  the  art  in  the  galleries 
of  the  Museum  of  Fine  Arts.  The  stately  and  noble 
reading-rooms  —  Bates  Hall,  the  periodical-room,  the 
newspaper-room,  the  fine-arts  room,  and  other  depart- 
ments and  specialties;  the  active  hospitality  of  the 
Library,  its  beauty,  glow,  and  charm,  are  simply  mag- 
netic. Too  much  could  hardly  be  said  of  the  unweary- 
ing courtesy,  the  helpful  kindness  of  Mr.  Bierstadt,  the 
Curator  of  Bates  Hall,  and  of  the  heads  of  the  other 
departments  in  the  delivery-room,  the  periodical  and  the 
newspaper  rooms.  The  atmosphere  of  the  most  gener- 
ous helpfulness  and  gracious  courtesy  is  simply  ideal,  and 
it  renders  the  Library  that  which  every  town  and  city 
library  should  be,  —  an  educational  centre,  using  the 


424  BOSTON   DAYS 


term  in  the  larger  sense  of  liberal  culture  as  well  as  of 
education  alone.  Yet  with  every  recognition  of  the 
very  rare  quality  of  Mr.  Whitney's  staff,  in  their  various 
responsible  positions ;  —  with  every  recognition  of  the 
spacious,  stately,  splendid  building  —  a  dream  of  beauty 
without  and  within  —  one  must  come  back  to  the  centre 
of  it  all,  to  him  whose  fine,  firm  touch  upon  the  main- 
spring holds  its  elaborate  mechanism  true  to  its  course, 
the  Librarian.  The  splendid  building,  wdth  all  its  treas- 
ures of  literature  and  art,  might  almost  relapse  into  a 
mere  literary  mausoleum  were  it  not  for  the  spirit  that 
informs  it  with  life  and  light  and  irresistible  energy. 

The  opening  of  the  Library  on  Sunday  afternoons,  and 
the  extension  of  the  evening  hours  from  the  former 
closing  hour  of  nine  until  ten  o'clock,  the  present 
hour,  is  an  incalculable  blessing  to  those  whose  occupa- 
tions hold  them  closely  all  day.  The  number  of  persons 
visiting  the  Library  on  Sunday  afternoons  is  usually 
large;  and  not  unfrequently  Bates  Hall  is  crowded 
with  eager  readers  at  every  table. 

Fortunate  in  its  magnificent  site  on  Copley  Square ; 
facing  the  Museum  of  Fine  Arts,  Trinity  Church,  and 
the  Brunswick;  fortunate  in  its  architects,  its  artists, 
and  its  great  corps  of  assistants,  the  library  is  most  of 
all  fortunate  in  the  wise  administrative  policy  that  con- 
ducts the  institution.  The  basic  principle  appears  to 
be  the  conviction  that  the  Library  is  made  for  the 
people,  and  not  the  people  for  the  Library.  The  first 
effort  is  to  afford  the  largest  number  of  people  the  larg- 
est possible  facilities  for  reading,  study,  and  culture. 


I 


DAWN   OF   THE   TWENTIETH   CENTURY     425 

To  have  such  a  centre  for  students  and  literary 
workers  as  the  Public  Library  has  made  itself  in  Boston 
is  a  liberal  education  in  larger  social  sympathies.  The 
architecture  has  been  adversely  criticised  on  account 
of  the  distance  of  the  book-stacks  from  the  reading- 
rooms.  The  building  has  a  large  central  court  in 
which  a  fountain  throws  out  its  perpetual  spray  over 
the  verdant  grass,  and  the  four  sides  of  which  are  sur- 
rounded by  a  colonnade  where,  in  time,  will  be  busts 
and  statues  of  the  immortals.  The  book-stacks  occupy 
the  entire  west  end  of  the  building  ;  but  the  distance  is 
practically  annihilated  by  a  pneumatic  tube  and  electric 
railway.  The  entire  time  between  making  out  the  slip 
and  receiving  the  book  is  often  within  four  minutes,  so 
that  when  distance  can  thus  be  annihilated  by  modern 
conveniences  it  is  not  objectionable.  In  the  British 
Museum  the  time  required  for  procuring  books  is  so 
great  that  a  busy  worker  usually  sends  for  those  he  re- 
quires the  day  before  he  needs  to  use  them,  in  order  to 
have  them  at  hand  without  wasting  untold  hours. 

The  habitues  of  Bates  Hall  hold  in  affectionate 
remembrance  the  former  curator,  Mr.  Arthur  Mason 
Knapp,  who,  for  more  than  twenty  years,  had  literally 
radiated  sweetness  and  light  to  every  one  who  came 
within  the  sphere  of  his  work.  Mr.  Knapp's  vast 
stores  of  knowledge,  and  his  infinite  patience  and  sym- 
pathetic kindness,  were  at  the  service  of  every  one,  and 
the  value  of  his  aid  which  he  freely  placed  at  the  use  of 
any  one  who  asked  was  simply  beyond  computation.  For 
the  Public  Library  in  Boston  is  not  a  mere  building  stored 


426  BOSTON    DAYS 


with  books  and  mechanical  conveniences.  It  is  a  centre 
of  life,  of  unselfish  endeavor,  of  social  sympathies,  of 
mutual  interests. 

Another  ceutre  which,  like  the  Public  Library,  has 
radiated  high  influences  throughout  the  entire  commu- 
nity, is  the  Museum  of  Fine  Arts,  which  was  so  fortunate 
as  to  have  for  its  director,  over  a  long  number  of  years, 
that  most  accomplished  and  learned  connoisseur  of 
art,  Gen.  Charles  A.  Loring,  whose  death,  in  the 
summer  of  1902,  came  as  a  profound  personal  and 
artistic  loss  to  the  entire  community  whose  interests 
he  had  so  faithfully  and  ably  served  with  the  most 
endearing  courtesy  and  generous  goodness,  as  well  as 
by  his  wide  culture  and  unerring  judgment  of  both 
ancient  and  modern  art.  The  Museum  has  been  for- 
tunate in  securing  for  his  successor  one  of  the  most 
distinguished  of  living  savants,  Prof.  Edward  Robinson. 
The  progress  of  art  in  Boston  has  been  in  an  accelerated 
ratio  during  the  last  half  of  the  Nineteenth  century. 
Allston  left  his  name  written  among  the  immortals. 
William  Hunt,  George  Fuller,  and  Dr.  Rimmer  have 
title  to  imperishable  fame.  Of  contemporary  artists 
there  is  a  constellation  of  genius.  Elizabeth  Peabody 
has  recorded  of  Allston  that  ''  his  every  conversation 
had  the  beauty  of  a  work  of  art,  though  it  was  always 
the  unaffected  and  spontaneous  outflow  of  a  nature  in 
which  no  faculty  had  been  left  to  grow  rank,  but  all 
were  cultivated  harmoniously  and  faithfully." 

From  the  exhibition  of  Allston's  paintings  in  1839, 
which   made   so   deep   an  impression   upon   Margaret 


< 


DAWN   OF  THE  TWENTIETH   CENTURY     427 

Fuller,  to  the  present  time  Boston  has  been  hos- 
pitable, ardent,  and  finely  appreciative  of  special  col- 
lections. Allston,  whom  the  Italians  well  called  the 
"  Titian  of  America,"  can  be  studied  in  the  "  Allston 
rooms "  of  the  Museum  of  Fine  Arts,  where  many  of 
his  sublimest  works  are  exposed.  In  "  Belchazzar's 
Feast,"  "The  Dead  Man  Restored  to  Life,"  "The 
Witch  of  Endor,"  "  Rosalie,"  and  others,  his  art  can  be 
adequately  studied. 

Miss  Peabody  used  to  say  that  intercourse  with 
Allston  was  always  of  a  singular  freshness. 

"  He  was  very  retired  in  his  habits,"  she  continues, 
"  and  his  hours  of  work,  whether  with  the  pencil  or  the 
pen,  were  always  passed  in  absolute  solitude ;  also  his 
hours  of  lassitude  or  weariness.  But  when  he  came  into 
the  company  of  even  his  most  intimate  friends,  he  was  in 
full  presence.  He  always  went  round  and  shook  hands 
with  each,  in  deliglited  recognition,  and  whenever  he 
parted,  even  with  members  of  the  family,  and  for  the 
night,  it  was  done  with  so  much  sensibility  that  it  would 
do  well  for  the  last  time." 

The  great  exposition  of  the  works  of  John  S.  Sargent, 
given  by  the  Copley  Society,  was  a  memorable  event  in 
art.  One  cannot  study  so  representative  a  collection  of 
Sargent's  work  without  applying  to  him  the  lines  of 
Emerson :  — 

"  Born  and  nourished  in  miracles, 
His  feet  were  shod  with  golden  bells.  " 

Born  in  Florence,  cradled  in  art,  companioned  with 
beauty  from  his  infancy,  steeped  in  the  glorious  im- 


428  BOSTON   DAYS 


pressions  of  the  great  masters  whose  work  made  the 
golden  atmosphere  of  his  youth  —  in  these  portraits  is 
seen  the  result  of  such  an  atmosphere.  His  portraits 
reveal  a  series  of  psychological  impressions.  One  can- 
not but  suspect  him  of  entertaining  private  judgments 
of  his  own  which  it  would  not  invariably  be  discreet  to 
impart.  In  Sargent's  earlier  work  there  was,  indeed, 
an  occasional  departure  into  absolute  eccentricity  —  as 
when  he  painted  a  well-known  society  woman  of  Boston 
with  a  ring  of  light,  a  la  St.  Cecilia,  around  her  head. 
Just  what  was  intended  by  this,  no  one,  so  far  as  is 
currently  known,  has  ever  discovered.  At  all  events 
that  portrait  did  not  figure  in  this  collection,  albeit  its 
owner  is  a  liberal  patron  of  art. 

To  the  Sargent  exhibition  was  added  about  the  same 
time  that  of  Boutet  de  Monvel,  who  is  the  most  famous 
French  artist  of  the  day  in  the  portraiture  of  children, 
and  who,  as  an  illustrator,  has  a  dramatic  quality  of 
graphic  depiction  that  renders  his  pictorial  interpreta- 
tion almost  as  perfect  a  manner  of  telling  a  story  as  is 
literary  narration.  For  instance,  his  series  of  illustrations 
from  the  life  of  Jeanne  d'Arc.  In  thirty-eight  pictures 
(in  water-color)  the  entire  story  is  told.  The  peasant 
girl  at  Domremy ;  the  girl  standing  hushed  and  awed 
before  the  vision  of  St.  Michael  that  has  risen  before 
her,  half-hidden  in  the  shrubbery,  which  is  all  lighted 
up  with  the  sudden  glory;  the  girl  listening  in  rapt, 
wondering  ecstasy  to  "  the  voices ; "  the  scenes  show- 
ing Jeanne  on  the  road ;  her  recognition  of  the  King, 
who  tested  her  by  wearing  a  plainer  costume  than  his 


DAWN   OF   THE   TWENTIETH    CENTURY     429 

courtiers  ;  her  entrance  into  Orleans ;  the  taking  of  the 
Bastille  ;  the  reception  of  Jeanne  by  the  King  after  the 
victory ;  Jeanne  laying  down  her  armor  on  the  altar  of 
St.  Denis  kneeling  in  the  dim,  historic  interior ;  the  scene 
of  her  capture  under  the  walls  of  Compiegne ;  her  fall 
from  the  fortress  of  Beaurevoir  in  the  effort  to  escape  ;  her 
imprisonment  at  Rouen  ;  the  appearance  to  her  of  the 
saints  in  her  cell  at  night,  and  the  final  scene  of  the 
burning  of  the  Maid  alive  in  the  square  at  Rouen,  — 
all  these  and  other  scenes  are  so  vividly  represented  as 
to  fairly  suggest  the  story,  even  to  one  who  had  never 
heard  of  the  most  marvellous  train  of  events  in  history. 
The  St.  Botolph  Club  have  given  in  their  galleries 
a  series  of  important  exhibitions,  among  which  was  that 
of  works  of  Zorn,  —  not  a  large  exhibition,  some 
forty  pictures  in  all ;  not  too  large  to  study  at  leisure 
without  bewilderment,  and  sufficiently  extensive  to 
offer  a  representative  estimate  of  the  ability  of  this 
remarkable  artist.  Mr.  Sargent  —  who  can  well  afford 
to  be  generous,  and  would  be,  whether  he  could  afford 
it  or  not  —  asserts  that  Zorn  is  the  greatest  painter  of 
modern  times.  Boston  does  not  hold  him  so  high  as 
it  does  Mr.  Sargent  himself ;  but  it  must  be  felt  that  he 
has  a  kind  of  electric  power,  a  verve,  an  instantaneous, 
creative  ability,  and  a  genius  for  handling  light  that  is 
all  peculiarly  his  own.  His  methods  and  those  of  Mr. 
Sargent  are  wholly  different,  and  praise  or  appreciation 
of  the  one  does  not  by  any  means  detract  from  the 
other.  The  subjects  of  these  portraits  included  some 
persons  who  are  widely  known,  among  whom  was  Prof. 


430  BOSTON    DAYS 

Halsey  G.  Ives,  director  of  the  Museum  of  Fine  Arts 
of  St.  Louis,  and  the  man  who  so  pre-eminently  dis- 
tinguished himself  as  the  head  of  the  entire  art  depart- 
ment of  the  exposition  in  1893  at  Chicago. 

The  exhibition  of  the  work  of  Boutet  de  Monvel,  of 
Raffaelli,  of  Marcious-Simonds,  and  others  of  late  years, 
have  contributed  to  the  art  education  of  the  people. 

When  the  bronze  tablet  marking  the  grave  of  Edwin 
Booth  in  Mount  Auburn  was  placed,  a  little  group 
of  his  friends  gathered  there.  His  daughter  Edwina 
(Mrs.  Grossman),  Mrs.  Edwin  P.  Whipple,  Prof. 
Charles  Eliot  Norton,  Mrs.  Howe,  and  others,  and 
Mrs.  Howe,  reminded  of  the  beautiful  social  life  of  the 
rare  and  vanished  circle  of  the  past,  said,  half  dreamily, 
"  Where  are  the  philosophers  ?  Charlotte  [turning  to 
Mrs.  Whipple],  Charlotte,  why  don't  you  call  the 
philosophers  again  ?  "  "  My  doors  are  always  open  to 
them,"  replied  Mrs.  Whipple. 

"  The  philosophers  "  have  nearly  all  vanished  beyond 
reach  of  the  earthly  summons,  and  yet  the  presence  of 
Emerson,  Fields,  Whipple,  Dr.  Holmes,  Longfellow, 
Edwin  Booth,  seems  to  pervade  and  even  dominate  Bos- 
ton to-day,  however  unconsciously.  The  New  England 
type  is  very  distinctive.  A  New  Englander  is  a  New 
Englander  as  a  Greek  is  a  Greek.  The  type  is  as 
absolutely  its  own  in  the  United  States  as  that  of  the 
French  or  the  Austrian  in  Europe.  However  wide  the 
culture  or  the  experience  of  the  New  Englander,  he 
never  ceases  to  have  roots  in  soil,  so  to  speak.  On  one 
occasion  Prof.  Charles  Eliot  Norton  remarked  that  he 


DAWN   OF   THE   TWENTIETH    CENTURY     431 

considered  the  poem  *^  On  a  Bust  of  Dante,"  by  Dr. 
Parsons,  the  finest  one  ever  written  on  the  immortal 
Italian.  A  devotee  of  Rossetti  suggested  his  v^onderful 
poem,  and  asked  Professor  Norton  if  he,  indeed,  con- 
sidered that  of  Dr.  Parsons  finer  than  Rossetti's.  Prof. 
Norton  replied  in  the  affirmative,  saying  that  Rossetti 
seemed  to  him  affected.  There  is  an  inherent  Puritan- 
ism in  every  son  of  New  England,  which,  however 
latent  it  may  lie,  now  and  then  asserts  its  grasp  over 
determining  matters  of  taste  and  choice. 

Poet,  reformer,  romancist,  with  a  charm  of  personal- 
ity that  is,  in  itself,  one  of  the  most  potent  of  gifts.  Col. 
Thomas  Wentworth  Higginson  continues  still  his  active 
days  of  a  man  of  letters  and  social  life.  Colonel  Higgin- 
son is  the  founder  and  the  president  of  the  choicest 
literary  club  of  Boston,  —  the  "  Round  Table  "  :  he 
was  long  the  president,  as  he  is  always  one  of  the 
chief  inspirers  and  leaders,  of  the  Browning  Club  ;  and 
the  list  of  his  published  works  is  impressive.  He  has 
always  stood  for  the  most  advanced  and  liberal  thought ; 
he  was  one  of  the  early  workers  for  freedom ;  he  has 
always  warmly  espoused  the  cause  of  woman  suffrage, 
and  his  scholarly  taste,  his  wide  range  of  delightful 
friendships,  his  choice  contribution  to  literature,  invest 
his  name  with  a  magic  power.  In  his  reminiscences 
published  under  the  title  of  "  Cheerful  Yesterdays," 
the  reader  gains  vivid  glimpses  of  the  choicest  life  of 
the  past  half  century. 

Mrs.  Margaret  Deland  is  another  of  the  noted  novel- 
ists of  the  Boston  of  the  closing  years  of  the  Nine- 


432  BOSTON   DAYS 


teenth  century ;  aud  in  her  "  John  Ward,  Preacher," 
and  subsequent  books,  she  has  ranked  among  the  best 
authors  in  contemporary  fiction. 

The  place  held  by  Mrs.  Elizabeth  Stuart  Phelps- 
Ward  is  one  very  distinctive  in  American  literature. 
A  daughter  of  one  of  the  severest  theologians,  she  yet 
startled  the  reading  world  by  her  radical  ideas  of  the 
future  life  as  presented  in  the  "  Gates  Ajar."  In  the 
light  of  modern  thought  it  is  a  little  difficult  to  under- 
stand why  there  should  have  been  anything  incendiary 
in  this  picture  of  the  possibilities  of  the  future  life, 
but  it  had  its  unquestioned  work  to  do  in  breaking 
down  theological  barriers.  It  was,  perhaps,  the  first 
important  work  to  offer  a  rational  picture  of  the  life 
beyond  death,  as  the  natural  and  simple  continuation 
and  progress  of  this  life.  That  such  a  work  should  come 
from  the  daughter  of  an  Andover  professor  is  not  so 
strange  when  it  is  realized  that  this  learned  and  revered 
scholar,  however  severe  his  creed,  was  one  of  the  most 
tender  and  sympathetic  of  men,  and  that  from  both 
parents  Mrs.  Ward  must  have  inherited  her  quality  of 
exquisite  literary  talent.  This  fine  quality  of  mind 
naturally  made  her  susceptible  to  inspirations  of  a  very 
high  order. 

Whether  Mrs.  Phelps- Ward  has  "  concealed  herself 
behind  an  autobiography  "  —  to  borrow  the  clever  mot 
of  Zangwill  —  in  her  autobiographical  book  entitled 
"Chapters  from  a  Life,"  is  an  open  question.  The 
strict  Andover  atmosphere  of  her  girlhood  is  graphically 
reproduced  in  these  pages.     It  was  a  life  narrow,  but 


DAWN   OF   THE   TWENTIETH   CENTURY     433 

high.  The  life  of  well-defined  views  is  not  quite 
synonymous  with  that  of  great  thought,  but  it  has 
the  mould,  at  least,  of  the  higher  intellectual  life. 
Besides  its  interpretation  of  herself,  —  given  with  a 
delicate  reserve  that  leaves  the  reader  to  crave  more,  — 
this  book  of  Mrs.  Ward's  offers  a  multitude  of  charming 
and  intimate  glimpses  of  nearly  all  the  noted  New 
England  authors.     Of  Longfellow  she  says  :  — 

*'  Thus  indeed,  reviewing  Longfellow's  life  as  a  whole, 
we  discern  his  days  to  be  crowded  with  incident  and  ex- 
perience. Every  condition  of  human  life  presented  itself 
at  his  door,  and  every  human  being  found  a  welcome 
there,  —  incidents  and  experiences  coming  as  frequently 
to  him  through  the  lives  of  others  as  through  the  gate  of 
his  own  being.  The  note  of  love  and  unity  with  the 
divine  will  was  the  dominant  one  which  controlled  his 
spirit  and  gave  him  calm." 

Certainly  the  salient  points  of  the  life  of  a  woman  of 
letters,  with  whom  thoughts,  rather  than  occurrences, 
are  events,  is  told  with  a  delicacy  of  reserve  which  is 
in  itself  an  example  of  literary  art,  and  that  the  at- 
mosphere seems  half  ideal  is,  nevertheless,  one  of  its 
strongest  claims  to  realistic  truth ;  for  the  environment 
of  this  remarkable  woman  has  been  essentially  one  of 
detachment  from  ordinary  events. 

The  summer  residence  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Ward  is  very 
picturesque  at  their  Gloucester  cottage,  where  Mrs. 
Ward  has  almost  translated  sea  and  surf  into  music 
and  set  them  in  her  "  Songs  of  a  Silent  World."  With 
the  ocean  on  one  side  of  the  jutting  point,  and  Glou- 

28 


434  BOSTON   DAYS 


cester  harbor  on  the  other,  there  is  a  Yenetian-like 
eiFect  to  their  home.  Before  the  piazza  are  great 
rocks,  and  between  this  ledge  and  the  shore  the  tide 
flows  in.  The  color-pictures  of  a  sea  of  sapphire,  or 
silver  gray,  or  of  dreamy  shades  of  amethyst,  rose,  or 
violet,  transcend  description ;  and  if  one  may  see, 
flitting  from  piazza  to  rocks,  a  graceful,  white-robed 
figure,  with  dark  hair  brushed  carelessly  away  from 
the  classic  face,  a  hint  of  tuberoses  at  the  throat, 
and  the  summer  sunshine  in  the  luminous  eyes,  he  may 
not  be  far  amiss  if  he  fancy  it  to  be  that  of  the  world- 
famous  author,  —  Elizabeth  Stuart  Phelps-Ward. 

The  pleasant  informalities  of  summer  life  by  the  sea 
are  reflected  in  this  little  note  from  Miss  Phelps  (before 
she  became  Mrs.  Ward)  to  the  Whipples,  who  were 

staying  near :  — 

Eastern  Point. 

Dear  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Whipple,  —  I  sent  over  yesterday 
to  see  if  you  wouldn't  take  an  early  tea  with  me,  but 
you  were  not  to  be  found,  and  we  left  no  message,  think- 
ing it  would  be  a  medley  by  the  time  it  reached  you. 
To-day  I  am  not  quite  as  well,  and  so  have  not  tried 
again.  I  hope  at  all  events  that  you  will  get  over  to  see 
me  in  some  fashion  before  you  go. 

Sincerely  yours, 

Elizabeth  Stuart  Phelps. 

One  of  the  most  delightful  and  effervescent  person- 
alities was  Miss  Lucretia  Peabody  Hale,  a  sister  of 
Edward  Everett  Hale,  who,  in  recalling  their  childhood, 
would  often  gleefully  narrate  that  in  their  nursery  days 
her  father's  paper,  the  "  Advertiser,"  was  made  to  do 


DAWN  OF  THE  TWENTIETH   CENTURY     435 

duty  at  meals,  pinned  about  their  necks.  Perhaps  the 
future  illustrious  group  absorbed  something  of  this  ex- 
ternal literary  culture.  Miss  Susan  Hale,  her  younger 
sister,  is  a  wit,  par  excellence,  a  delightful  woman  of 
society,  and  is  a  most  accomplished  and  extensive 
traveller. 

Miss  Lucretia  Hale,  who  will  always  be  remembered 
as  the  author  of  that  inimitable  book,  "  The  Peterkins," 
was  a  favorite  pupil  of  the  famous  Elizabeth  Peabody. 
The  true  Bostonese  are  all  related  or  connected  by 
intricate  intermarriages,  and,  as  a  consequence,  as  Mr. 
Henry  James  has  humorously  portrayed  in  his  stories, 
they  are  apt  to  speak  of  each  other  by  their  first  names. 

Miss  Hale's  literary  work  was  never  by  any  means 
done  in  any  well-regulated  early  morning  hours.  "  I 
am  absolutely  useless  till  ten  o'clock,  at  least,"  she  used 
to  say,  '^  but  I  have  observed  that  if  I  survive  that  hour 
I  usually  live  through  the  day."  It  is  a  question  if  any 
Boston  woman  since  the  days  of  Margaret  Fuller  had 
ever  so  large  a  following,  so  to  speak,  as  Miss  Hale. 
Her  literary  classes  drew  about  her  many  young  people ; 
her  literary  work  reached  a  still  larger  number,  and  her 
own  friends  and  associates  were  practically  infinite  in 
variety.  She  had  the  talent  for  that  large  relatedness 
of  life  which  so  signally  characterizes  her  distinguished 
brother. 

In  the  esteemed  jurist  and  citizen.  Judge  Robert 
Grant,  of  the  Boston  of  to-day,  the  literary  world  does 
not  forget  the  Robert  Grant  who  is  one  of  the  interest- 
ing figures  among  Boston  authors.     He  has  had  the 


436  BOSTON   DAYS 


typical  career  of  the  man  who  was  born  in  Boston, 
graduated  at  Harvard,  and  has  been  the  poet  of  the  Phi 
Beta  Kappa  before  the  Harvard  chapter.  As  an  under- 
graduate Mr.  Grant  showed  the  literary  bent,  and  his 
work  followed  a  certain  sympathetic  and  delicately  in- 
tuitive line  of  interpretation  of  social  life,  with  flashes 
of  wit  and  genial  humor  that  make  it  delightful  reading. 
He  struck  the  keynote  of  fame  in  that  wonderfully 
popular  story  of  its  day,  the  "  Confessions  of  a  Frivo- 
lous Girl,"  and  between  that  and  his  latest  novel, 
^^  Unleavened  Bread,"  —  one  of  the  momentous  studies 
in  American  fiction,  —  lie  a  long  list  of  charming 
works. 

The  old  "West  End"  of  Boston  is  changing  so 
rapidly  that  one  hardly  recognizes  it.  Beacon  Hill, 
Mount  Vernon,  Chestnut,  and  Pinckney  streets  are 
being  rapidly  invaded  by  trade  and  apartment  houses. 
These  afford  beautiful  views  from  all  the  upper  stories, 
for  the  location  is  picturesque  in  the  extreme,  and  the 
old  landmarks  are,  thereby,  disappearing.  From  a  some- 
what provincial  —  even  though  choice  —  city  of  the 
gods  and  muses,  Boston  is  becoming  cosmopolitan,  and 
the  general  topography  of  the  city  is  undergoing  a  trans- 
formation, while  the  vast  extension  of  residence  regions, 
made  possible  by  the  superb  system  of  local  electric 
transit,  has  fairly  created  a  "  Greater  Boston  "  with  the 
celerity  of  the  traditional  miracle. 

The  home  of  Thomas  Bailey  Aldrich,  the  poet,  is  one 
of  the  stately  old  mansions  on  Beacon  Hill,  and  it  has 
a   cupola   commanding  a  view  which  —  especially   at 


DAWN   OF   THE   TWENTIETH    CENTURY     437 

night,  with  the  electric  lights  gleaming  brilliantly  amid 
the  foliage  of  the  Common,  or  reflected  in  the  lake  in  the 
Public  Gardens  casting  Rembrandtesque  shadows  over 
the  stately  architecture  of  the  Back  Bay  —  is  most 
romantic.  The  large  drawing-rooms,  up  one  flight, 
after  the  manner  of  the  old-time  mansions  of  Boston, 
are  interesting  in  their  relics  of  travel  and  quaint  carv- 
ings and  old  pictures  ;  brilliant  companies  throng  them 
on  occasions  of  receptions,  or  choice  and  select  groups 
gather  for  the  little  dinners  for  which  the  house  is 
famous.  Mr.  Aldrich's  place  in  modern  poetry  is  so 
unique  that  it  is  doubtless  more  widely  appreciated 
than  critically  defined.  Two  things,  at  least,  are  appa- 
rent in  his  work,  —  apparent  spontaneity,  combined 
with  the  most  exquisite  finish.  The  subtle  process  no 
more  lends  itself  to  interpretation  than  does  the  song  of 
the  nightingale. 

The  poetry  of  Mr.  Aldrich  is  as  distinctive  as  if  he 
were  the  only  poet  in  the  world.  This  is  not  to  say  it 
is  greater  than  any  other ;  but  that  it  is  of  so  unique 
and  delicate  a  quality  that  it  is  only  comparable  with 
itself.  When  one  says  that  these  lyrics  are  of  the 
exquisite  finish,  of  the  most  subtle,  penetrating  insight 
into  the  springs  of  life,  it  can  well  be  added  that  these 
qualities  are  to  be  found  in  greater  or  less  measure  in 
other  poets  also  ;  but  the  subtle  quality  that  makes 
them  Mr.  Aldrich's  own  escapes  analysis  and  defini- 
tion ;  it  is  felt  rather  than  explained.  Nor  is  there  any 
special  satisfaction  in  endeavoring  to  turn  upon  them 
some  critical  searchlight  that  shall  reveal  their  defects 


438  BOSTON    DAYS 


or  limitations,  if  these  they  possess;  let  one  rather 
revel  in  their  beauty.  As  an  instance  of  this  pictorial 
beauty,  take  these  lines  :  — 

*'  My  mind  lets  go  a  thousand  things, 
Like  dates  of  wars  and  deaths  of  kings, 
And  yet  recalls  the  very  hour  — 
'T  was  noon  by  yonder  village  tower, 
And  on  the  last  hlue  noon  in  May  — 
The  wind  came  briskly  up  this  way, 
Crisping  the  brook  beside  the  road  ; 
Then,  pausing  here,  set  down  its  load 
Of  pine-scents,  and  shook  listlessly 
Two  petals  from  that  wild-rose  tree," 

No  painting  could  more  wonderfully  reproduce  that 
scene,  —  the  blue  sky,  the  brisk  May  wind  rippling  the 
brook,  the  striking  of  the  hour  by  the  clock,  and  the 
two  petals  falling  from  the  rose  tree.  Here  is  a  per- 
fect artistic  picture.  In  *'  Prescience  "  is  as  subtle  and 
perfect  a  picture  with  the  far-reaching  tide  of  spiritual 
emotion  added. 

"  The  new  moon  hung  in  the  sky. 
The  sun  was  low  in  the  west, 
And  my  betrothed  and  I 

In  the  churchyard  paused  to  rest. 

'^  And  lo !  in  the  meadow  sweet 
Was  the  grave  of  a  little  child, 
With  a  crumbling  stone  at  the  feet 
And  the  ivy  running  wild. 

"  Stricken  with  nameless  fears 
She  shrank  and  clung  to  me, 
And  her  eyes  were  filled  with  tears 
For  a  sorrow  I  did  not  see. 


i 


DAWN   OF   THE   TWENTIETH    CENTURY     439 


"  Tears  for  the  unknown  years 

And  a  sorrow  that  was  to  be  !  " 

And  how  enchanting  is  this  stanza  from  "  The 
Unforgiven  " :  — 

"  In  the  East  the  rose  of  morning  seems  as  if  't  would  blossom 
soon ; 
But  it  never,  never  blossoms,  in  this  picture  ;  and  the  moon 
Never  ceases  to  be  crescent,  and  thete  June  is  always  June." 

Mr.  Aldrich's  poetry  recalls  to  one  everything  delicate 
and  most  beautiful,  —  the  shimmer  of  moonlight  on  the 
sea ;  the  faint  fragrance  of  half-opened  Marechal  Niel 
roses ;  the  gold  and  rose  of  a  summer  sunset.  The 
finest  sculptured  alabaster  could  not  be  more  beautiful 
in  line  and  form  than  many  of  his  poems. 

Mrs.  James  T.  Fields  still  continues  to  occupy  her 
home  on  Charles  Street  from  which  the  tide  of  fashion 
has  long  since  ebbed  away.  Once  within,  the  guest 
would  no  more  wonder  that  she  felt  no  inclination 
to  migrate  with  her  Lares  and  Penates  to  newer 
locations.  The  west  windows  of  the  house  (at  the 
back)  command  the  Charles  River,  which,  making 
here  a  bend,  gives  the  length  for  its  vista,  and  the 
glory  of  the  sunset  is  a  vision  never  to  be  forgotten. 
The  house  is  a  veritable  literary  museum,  —  a  shrine 
of  treasures,  —  crowded  with  rare  books,  engravings, 
portraits,  autographs  ;  portraits  of  Pope,  by  Hichardson, 
of  Dickens,  painted  over  a  half  a  century  ago  by 
Alexander,   of  Lady   Sunderland,  by  Sir   Peter   Lely. 


440  BOSTON   DAYS 


And  especially  does  one  feel  the  very  consecration  of 
interest  in  the  guest-chamber,  which  so  many  notable 
people  have  occupied. 

For  in  this  home  almost  every  foreign  visitor  of 
distinction  has  been  a  guest.  Mr.  Fields  was  the 
genial  companion,  the  sympathetic  and  inspiring  critic, 
friend,  and  publisher.  He  had  the  publishing  instinct 
developed  almost  to  genius.  He  had  an  intuitive 
grasp  of  what  the  public  wanted  or  should  want,  the 
latter  knowledge,  perhaps,  being  the  more  important. 
He  was  an  educator  of  public  taste.  His  genial  and 
sympathetic  personality  made  him  the  centre  of  a  not- 
able group  of  authors,  both  American  and  English. 
It  was  he  who  brought  out  the  first  edition  in  America 
of  Tennyson's  poems.  He  published  for  Thackeray 
and  Dickens.  Meantime  our  American  classics  — 
Hawthorne,  Emerson,  Longfellow,  Lowell,  Mrs.  Stowe, 
Thoreau,  Whipple  —  were  appearing  from  his  house. 
When  over  thirty  years  of  age  Mr.  Fields  married  Miss 
Annie  Adams,  a  girl  of  seventeen,  whose  character  and 
gifts,  as  she  developed  into  womanhood,  were  remark- 
ably sympathetic  with  his  own. 

A  very  beautiful  picture  of  Mrs.  Fields,  taken  in  her 
early  womanhood,  was  a  great  favorite  of  Mr.  Long- 
fellow, a  copy  of  it  always  remaining  on  the  man- 
tel of  that  upper  chamber  of  his  house  which  was 
once  Washington's  chamber  and  in  which  the  poet 
wrote  ^'  Hyperion."  The  hospitable  home  of  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Fields  has  played  a  notable  part  in  the  literary 
drama  of  Boston.     In  an  upper  room  of  their  house 


Sai'cih  Holland  Adams 


DAWN   OF   THE   TWENTIETH    CENTURY     441 

Emerson  wrote  his  poem  called  "Voluntaries,"  on 
an  occasion  when  he  was  their  guest.  At  the  table 
he  told  his  host  and  hostess  of  the  poem,  and,  after 
the  meal  they  accompanied  him  to  his  room,  where 
the  scattered  pages  of  the  poem  lay  all  over  the 
carpet.  On  his  reading  it,  he  asked,  "What  shall 
the  title  be?"  to  which  Mrs.  Fields  at  once  replied, 
"  Voluntaries." 

Mr.  Whittier  was  an  always  welcome,  albeit  rather 
shy,  guest  among  the  Boston  group.  He  was  often  a 
guest  for  weeks  at  the  home  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Fields, 
and  frequently,  too,  at  the  home  of  Governor  and 
Mrs.  Claflin. 

One  of  the  most  interesting  figures  in  cosmopolitan 
society  —  for  Europe  as  well  as  her  own  country  claims 
her  —  is  Miss  Sarah  Holland  Adams,  a  sister  of  Mrs. 
Fields,  an  eminent  German  translator,  and  a  lady  of 
the  most  exquisite  culture.  For  twenty  years  she 
lived  abroad,  largely  in  Berlin,  where  she  was  in  touch 
with  court  circles  and  the  best  society  of  Germany  in 
the  world  of  thought  and  letters,  and  where  one  of  her 
especial  friends  was  Prof.  Herman  Grimm. 

Miss  Adams  translated  his  "  Lectures  on  Goethe,"  a 
series  of  twelve  which  he  delivered  before  the  Univer- 
sity of  Berlin,  which,  in  the  volume  brought  out  by 
Little,  Brown,  and  Company,  constitute  a  contribution  of 
value  to  Goethean  literature.  Another  volume  of  the 
translations  of  Miss  Adams  comprises  the  essays  of  Dr. 
Grimm  on  Emerson,  Carlyle,  Frederick  the  Great, 
"  The   Brothers   Grimm "    (his   father  and  uncle,  the 


442  BOSTON   DAYS 


authors  of  the  celebrated  "  Fairy  Tales  "),  and  others. 
Early  in  the  last  decade  of  the  century  just  passed  Miss 
Adams  returned  to  her  home  city,  and  in  an  apartment 
looking  out  on  Copley  Square  she  makes  a  charming 
home,  in  picture  and  book-lined  rooms,  always  brilliant 
with  flowers  sent  by  her  myriad  of  friends,  and  which  is 
a  social  centre  of  the  finest  Boston  life.  The  "  Life  of 
Raphael,"  the  "Life  and  Times  of  Goethe,"  and  the 
"  Essays  "  of  Prof.  Herman  Grimm  have  all  been  trans- 
lated by  Miss  Adams  ^vith  that  accuracy  of  significance 
and  choice  beauty  of  English  which  so  notably  charac- 
terize her  literary  work. 

Not  only  had  Miss  Adams  a  personal  acquaintance 
with  Professor  Grimm,  but  a  most  intimate  friendship. 
Her  social  circle  in  Berlin  included,  indeed,  the  most 
eminent  men  and  women  of  the  city,  and  at  a  literary 
festival  she  was  decorated  with  a  medal  bearing  on  one 
side  the  portraits  of  the  Grand  Duke  and  Duchess  of 
Weimar  and  on  the  other  a  laurel  wreath  and  an 
inscription.  This,  the  highest  honor  that  Germany  can 
bestow  upon  literary  genius,  was  one  singularly  fitting 
to  be  given  to  Miss  Adams.  She  was  also  made  a 
member  of  the  Gesellschaft,  a  literary  society  that  is  so 
cosmopolitan  as  to  include  members  among  the  eminent 
people  all  over  the  world,  and  her  salon  was  a  centre  of 
the  most  brilliant  intellectual  life.  At  Weimar  Miss 
Adams  passed  several  delightful  months.  It  was  at 
Weimar  that  Bayard  Taylor  made  his  home  chiefly  during 
many  years  of  his  early  life,  and  he  was  much  beloved 
by  the  court,  and  often  read  English  poetry  aloud  to  the 


DAWN   OF   THE  TWENTIETH   CENTURY     443 

Duke  and  Duchess  and  their  children.  One  evening 
he  read  to  them  (in  English)  Poe's  "  Raven,"  and  when 
he  had  finished,  the  Grand  Duke  said :  "  It  is  a  terrible 
conception,  for  the  raven  can  only  symbolize  despair, 
and  he  makes  it  perch  upon  the  bust  of  Pallas,  as  if  to 
say  that  despair  broods  over  wisdom  herself." 

The  Grand  Duke  was  a  great  lover  of  Hawthorne, 
and  Miss  Adams  relates  that  he  often  spoke  of  him 
to  Mr.  Taylor,  and  related  that  Goethe  spoke  of  Haw- 
thorne's luminous  and  magnificent  eyes. 

The  charm  of  personality  which  characterizes  Miss 
Adams  is  something  difl&cult  to  define.  It  is  that  gift 
and  grace  we  call  charm,  the  result  of  the  fine  inflores- 
cence of  many  exquisite  qualities,  to  which  intellectual 
grasp,  imaginative  power,  sympathy,  and  social  culture 
all  contribute,  and  which  is  all  these,  and  more,  in  its 
effect. 

Miss  Sarah  Orne  Jewett,  whose  manner  has  the 
same  sympathetic  winsomeness  that  invests  her  stories 
with  a  charmed  atmosphere,  though  not  a  resident  of 
Boston,  yet  has  largely  made  one  in  the  gifted  circle  of 
later  years ;  and  Mrs.  Celia  Thaxter,  too,  was  allured 
from  the  lovely  sea-girt  island  that  was  her  home  for 
every  summer,  and  in  her  early  life  for  all  the  year,  and 
that  seemed  a  fit  place  for  myth  and  legend  and  story. 
She  was  herself  something  of  a  Viking  maiden,  strong 
in  her  simple  and  spontaneous  feeling,  and  pronounced 
in  her  individuality.  Her  sensitiveness  to  color  is  re- 
vealed in  this  part  of  a  letter  written  to  Mrs.  Fields 
from  Naples  in  1880:  — 


444  BOSTON   DAYS 


'•  Our  hotel  is  high  up.  Before  us  lies  Capri,  melting  in 
sapphire  and  amethyst.  The  Mediterranean  is  wondrous ; 
it  is  like  the  '  Arabian  Nights  ;  '  it 's  not  like  water ;  it 's 
like  leaping,  liquid,  prismatic  flame  all  about  its  delicious 
islands." 

Her  letters  all  show  joyful,  exuberant  life  and  resist- 
less energy.  She  loved  flowers  passionately ;  music, 
only  less,  and  she  cared  for  the  more  direct  and  simple, 
rather  than  philosophic  literature.  She  loved  "  Char- 
lotte Bronte  "  with  all  her  heart.  She  loved  Whittier, 
and  spoke  appreciatively  of  his  rare  truth  and  goodness. 
It  is  a  question  if  the  subtleties  of  art  appealed  to  her. 
On  the  stage  she  preferred  Ellen  Terry  to  Bernhardt. 
She  revelled  in  color,  and  all  her  letters  reveal  vividly 
this  free,  simple,  joyous,  and  unique  nature.  Aside 
from  the  strong,  personal  interest  that  it  possesses,  it  is 
interesting  as  a  character-study. 

It  was  like  finding  the  philosophers,  indeed,  to  find 
Mrs.  Horace  Mann  and  her  sister,  Elizabeth  Peabody, 
one  winter  when  they  had  rooms  in  the  city  on  Bowdoin 
Street,  in  the  old  West  End.  It  was  a  cold  and  blus- 
tering March  evening,  probably  in  1885  or  1886,  that 
one  or  two  friends  climbed  the  stairs  to  the  rooms  that 
the  two  ladies  were  occupying.  The  mixture  of  high 
thinking  and  plain  living  was  striking.  •  The  rooms, 
only  two  or  three,  were  in  an  old-fashioned  house,  and 
the  sitting-room  evidently  served  as  kitchen  and  dining- 
room  as  well,  in  a  kind  of  light  housekeeping,  where 
an  oil  stove  and  a  cabinet  did  duty  for  range  and 
pantry.     In  one  corner  was  a  superb  marble  bust  of 


DAWN   OF   THE   TWENTIETH    CENTURY     445 

Horace  Mann ;  there  were  engravings  of  great  value 
and  beauty  —  many  of  them  brought  from  Europe  by 
the  Hawthornes  —  on  the  walls ;  there  were  rare  books 
and  bits  of  vertu,  and,  with  these,  the  meagre  furnishing 
almost  of  tenement  rooms.  The  two  aged  sisters  — 
gentlewomen,  whose  manner  would  have  graced  any 
court  —  were  living  in  the  utmost  simplicity,  but  they 
lived  and  moved  and  had  their  being  in  the  heavenly 
kingdom.  They  missed  nothing  that  this  world  could 
have  given  them.  They  had  bread  to  eat  that  the 
world  knew  not  of. 

The  guests  drew  their  chairs  before  the  fire.  Miss 
Peabody  was  a  large  woman.  Mrs.  Mann  was  as  tiny 
and  delicate  as  a  sparrow.  The  kerosene  lamp  flared 
and  flickered,  and  finally  went  out,  after  the  fashion  of 
a  lamp  where  the  housekeepers  are  too  much  occupied 
with  ethical  problems  to  remember  to  fill  it.  The  blus- 
tering March  wind  blew  the  branches  of  trees  against 
the  windows,  like  ghostly  finger  taps,  and  the  noble 
and  high-souled  women  talked,  and  their  friends  listened 
and  listened,  even  then  half  conscious  that  this  was  to 
be  an  historic  hour. 

Mrs.  Mann  spoke  of  her  husband,  and  of  the  "  pre- 
cious privilege  "  it  had  been  to  share  his  life  ;  and  she 
and  Miss  Peabody  went  on  —  in  true  transcendental 
fashion  —  to  speak  of  the  problem  of  evil  as  one  that 
had  no  substantial  existence,  but  was  merely  "  the  want 
of  soul  culture." 

Mrs.  Anna  Cabot  Lodge  was  another  of  the  strongly 
individualized   characters  of  Boston.     She  lived   into 


446  BOSTON   DAYS 


advanced  age,  well  on  in  the  eighties,  and  her  name 
was  an  authority  in  that  way  in  which  Boston  society  is 
peculiar.  With  ample  wealth,  with  liberal  endowment 
of  wit  and  literary  and  social  culture,  Mrs.  Lodge 
made  her  Beacon  Street  home  a  noted  centre  of  life. 
Dr.  Howe  was  one  of  her  nearer  friends,  and  she  was 
deeply  interested  in  his  work  for  the  blind.  Mrs.  Lodge 
drew  about  her,  indeed,  many  of  the  most  eminent 
people  of  the  day,  and  among  the  most  intimate  habituSs 
of  her  house  was  Charles  Sumner.  She  was  a  highly 
intellectual  woman,  and  so  far  as  she  was  sympa- 
thetic, it  was  through  the  intellect,  and  not  in  the 
least  through  any  poetic,  intuitive,  or  imaginative  feel- 
ing. That  was  not  her  metier.  She  was  poised,  keen, 
critical,  extremely  just  in  all  her  dealings,  and  a  woman 
of  an  imperious  will.  During  all  the  years  of  the 
domestic  tragedy  of  Sumner's  life,  Mrs.  Lodge  was  his 
friend  and  confidante.  She  was  not,  as  already  stated, 
an  imaginative  woman,  but  she  was  loyal  and  true,  and, 
as  the  New  England  people  say,  one  "  always  knew 
where  to  find  her."  She  was  penetrating,  but  not 
intuitive.  Her  force  of  intellect  made  her  the  former ; 
her  lack  of  the  poetry  and  divination  of  life  denied 
her  the  magic  of  intuition. 

Boston  has  been  fortunate  in  a  group  of  Catholic 
citizens,  —  poets  and  men  and  women  of  letters,  — 
Boyle  O'Reilly,  Mrs.  Mary  E.  Blake  (the  "M.  E.  B." 
of  literature),  Miss  Katherine  Eleanor  Conway,  and 
James  Jeffrey  Roche  being  all  especially  prominent. 
Mr.  O'Reilly  had  the  personality  that  charmed  the  hum- 


DAWN   OF   THE   TWENTIETH    CENTURY     447 

blest  errand  boy  or  the  crudest  laborer,  as  it  did  the 
choicest  circles  of  Boston  society.  As  president  of  the 
Papyrus  Club,  surrounded  by  the  genius  and  wit  of 
authors,  artists,  and  scholars,  he  was  not  more  de- 
lightful than  in  his  professional  and  business  relations 
with  his  associates  in  the  daily  work  of  life.  His  was 
a  royal  soul.  A  casual  meeting  and  greeting  on  the 
street  communicated  to  one  a  new  stimulus  and  invig- 
oration.  He  was  peculiarly  and  pre-eminently  a  man 
of  large  relatedness  to  life.  Not  only  in  his  natural 
and  inevitable  relations  to  authorship  and  business, 
to  his  family  and  nearer  friends  and  to  general  society, 
but  to  all  humanity.  No  person  could  be  so  obscure, 
or  so  degraded,  or  so  utterly  outside  the  pale  of  what 
might  seem  some  use  in  life,  as  to  be  outside  the  active 
sympathies  of  Boyle  O'Reilly.  If  an  individual  was  in 
need,  that  was  all  the  passport  required  to  his  sympathy, 
his  counsel,  and  his  assistance.  He  left  the  deserts  to 
be  judged  by  the  All-Seeing,  and  asked  no  credentials 
of  those  whom  his  goodness  benefited.  Even  if  Mr. 
O'Reilly  had  lacked  all  his  genius,  his  education,  his 
extensive  culture,  he  would  still  have  been  a  great 
man,  because  of  those  great  qualities.  Such  a  life 
lived  for  more  than  twenty  years  in  a  city  will  readily 
be  seen  to  have  accumulated  a  vast  number  and  variety 
of  personal  relationships  on  many  planes  of  life.  Men 
and  women  of  genius,  scholars  and  cultivated  workers 
in  the  arts  and  professions  found  in  him  a  delightful 
friend  and  companion ;  men  and  women  and  young 
people  of  the  cruder  classes,  found  in  him  a  counsellor 


448  BOSTON   DAYS 


whose  judgment  was  wise  and  unselfish,  and  whose 
sympathies  were  always  responsive  and  generous,  and 
full  of  stimulus  and  encouragement. 

Gen.  Francis  A.  Walker  and  Mr.  O'Reilly  were  the 
most  inseparable  of  companions,  and  they  used  to 
take  delight  in  puzzling  their  friends  regarding  their 
individual  identity,  as  they  strikingly  resembled  each 
other.  Entering  Mrs.  Whipple's  drawing-room  on  her 
Sunday  "  evenings  "  together,  the  one  would  assert  to 
his  hostess,  "  I  am  Walker,"  and  the  other,  "  I  am 
O'Reilly,"  and  it  was  quite  safe  to  reverse  these  alleged 
identities  in  addressing  them.  Mrs.  W^hipple  relates 
that  when  the  statue  to  Boyle  O'Reilly — placed  at 
the  Boylston  Street  entrance  to  the  Back  Bay  Park  — 
was  unveiled.  General  Walker  sat  so  that  his  profile 
was  just  within  range  of  the  portrait  bust  of  the 
dead  patriot  and  poet,  and  that  the  face  of  the  sculp- 
tured marble  might  well  have  been  for  the  poet's 
friend  as  well. 

"  It 's  better  to  be  Irish  than  to  be  right,"  Mr. 
O'Reilly  would  sometimes  laughingly  say,  and  the  con- 
versation between  himself  and  General  Walker  was 
often  a  perpetual  flash  of  wit  and  repartee. 

Two  familiar  figures  in  social  and  literary  circles  are 
Nathan  Haskell  Dole,  poet,  wit,  novelist,  and  eminent 
translator,  and  Arlo  Bates,  an  author  to  whom  the  lovers 
of  a  national  literature  may  well  feel  indebted  for  the 
fine  work  he  contributes.  His  novel  called  "  The  Wheel 
of  Fire  "  has  passages  that,  in  vivid  intensity  and  psy- 
chological analysis,  suggest  Hawthorne  in  the  "  Scarlet 


DAWN   OF   THE   TWENTIETH   CENTURY     449 

Letter,"  and  his  poems  are  among  those  that  have 
claim  to  literary  permanence. 

Mrs.  Kate  Gannett  Wells  is  a  woman  whose  singu- 
larly fine  insight  into  life  and  art  makes  her  one  of 
the  most  interesting  of  Bostonians.  The  father  of 
Mrs.  Wells,  the  Rev.  Dr.  Gannett,  was  a  noted  Uni- 
tarian divine  of  his  day,  and  a  portrait  of  him  which 
hangs  in  her  drawing-room  shows  one  of  the  typical 
New  England  thinkers  whose  doctrines  of  plain  living 
and  plain  thinking  laid  the  foundations  for  all  that  is 
best  in  the  New  England  of  to-day.  In  her  hospitable 
home  are  some  of  the  most  delightful  literary  and  social 
reunions. 

To  hold  the  presidency  of  such  an  educational 
centre  as  that  of  the  Massachusetts  Institute  of  Tech- 
nology means  more  than  the  usual  office  of  college 
president,  and  General  Walker's  administration  was  a 
remarkable  one.  It  is  an  institution  where  great 
forces  diverge  rather  than  converge.  It  is  an  institute 
that  comprehends  widely  different  trends.  It  is  de- 
partmental and  each  department  has  its  head.  Over 
all  this  complicated  work  General  Walker  held  sway. 
His  military  training  had  been  of  infinite  value  to  him 
in  acquiring  easy  command ;  the  lectures  and  other 
work  in  which  he  had  been  engaged  had  prepared 
him  in  every  respect  to  meet  this  vast  and  complicated 
demand  on  his  knowledge,  his  energies,  and  his  direc- 
tive ability. 

Besides  this  work  however,  or  rather,  with  this  as  a 
centre  from  which  to  radiate,  General  Walker  entered 

29 


450  BOSTON   DAYS 


into  the  life  of  politics  and  of  municipal  interests.  He 
was  a  member  of  the  park  commission,  the  art  com- 
mission, and  a  trustee  of  the  Public  Library.  He  was 
a  leader  and  an  authority  on  the  statistics  of  finance. 
He  was  a  frequent  contributor  to  such  reviews  as  the 
"  Forum,"  the  "  North  American,"  and  the  "  Arena." 
He  was  one  whom  France  would  have  distinguished  as 
a  *'  first  citizen." 

A  literary  festival  marking  the  eighty-first  anniver- 
sary of  the  birth  of  Mr.  Longfellow  by  an  authors' 
reading,  was  held  in  Sanders  Theatre,  the  interior  well 
known  for  Harvard  Commencement  exercises,  where  a 
long  Latin  inscription  is  over  the  stage,  and,  at  the 
left,  is  the  life-size  statue  of  President  Quincy.  This 
"Reading"  was  a  night  that  left  its  impression  on 
memory.  The  stage  was  charmingly  arranged  with 
flowers  and  palms  and  shaded  lamps  on  little  tables 
grouped  about ;  and  then  there  sat  Colonel  Higginson 
who  presided  with  his  own  inimitable  grace,  Mrs.  Julia 
Ward  Howe,  Rev.  Dr.  Edward  Everett  Hale,  Mrs. 
Louise  Chandler  Moulton,  John  Boyle  O'Reilly,  Mr. 
William  Winter,  Mr.  George  Parsons  Lathrop,  Heze- 
kiah  Butterworth,  Mr.  Charles  Follen  Adams,  and  the 
"  founder  of  the  feast,"  —  as  Colonel  Higginson  so  hap- 
pily said,  —  Miss  Charlotte  Fiske  Bates,  later  Madame 
Rog^.  A  bust  of  the  poet  Longfellow,  crowned  with 
laurel,  graced  the  centre  of  the  stage,  and  above  was 
the  inscription,  in  living  green,  "  Longfellow,  1807." 
The  audience  included  a  large  number  of  the  literati 
of  Cambridge  and  Boston,  an  audience  peculiarly  re- 


DAWN   OF   THE   TWENTIETH   CENTURY     451 

sponsive  and  appreciative.  Colonel  Higginson  opened 
his  felicitous  remarks  with  an  allusion  to  the  Spanish 
proyerb,  —  that  a  man  cannot  be  bell-ringer  and  walk 
in  the  procession  at  the  same  time,  although  he  seemed 
to  prove  that  he  himself,  could,  for  beside  his  graceful 
presiding,  he  read  one  of  his  own  poems,  "  Dame 
Craigie,"  which  was  most  appreciatively  received. 

Mrs.  Howe  read  her  "  Sunset  on  the  Nile  "  and  several 
short  poems  on  Italian  themes,  and  afterward  recited 
some  verses  she  had  written  to  Longfellow.  Colonel 
Higginson's  introduction  of  Dr.  Hale  was  very  amusing. 
The  statue  of  Josiah  Quincy,  once  president  of  the  col- 
lege, reminded  him,  he  said,  when  he  looked  from  it 
to  Dr.  Hale  (the  only  officer  of  the  university  on  the 
stage),  of  an  occasion  painfully  near  fifty  years  ago, 
when  not  only  three  of  the  speakers,  but  all  of  them, 
had  worn  gowns.  And  on  that  day  President  Quincy 
had  said,  in  calling  forward  one  young  man,  "  Exspec- 
tatur  oratio  in  lingua  vernacula."  With  this  and  a 
"Hail,  Hale,"  Dr.  Hale  came  forward  and  read  "My 
Double  and  How  He  Undid  Me,"  till  the  audience  as 
well,  were  fairly  undone  with  laughter.  Mr.  William 
Winter,  who  may  well  be  called  the  Moore  of  America 
in  the  wonderful  melody  and  music  of  his  poems,  — 
read  his  lines  on  Longfellow,  some  stanzas  beginning, 
"Could  we  but  feel  that  our  lost  ones  are  near  us," 
and  his  poem,  "  The  Chieftain,"  in  praise  of  Dr.  Holmes. 
Mr.  J.  T.  Trowbridge's  contribution  to  the  evening 
was  made  up  entirely  of  those  verses  of  his  which 
describe   simply  and   wdth  no  little   pathos  the  tardy 


4.52  BOSTON   DAYS 


success  of  a  playwright  who  has  long  been  fighting 
poverty. 

Mrs.  Louise  Chandler  Moulton  was  felicitously  intro- 
duced by  Colonel  Higginson,  who  related  a  portion  of  a 
conversation  which  he  had  with  a  gentleman  in  London 
who  had  spoken  to  him  of  the  blindness  which  was  the 
perpetual  discouragement  of  his  son's  poetic  talent,  and 
of  a  gracious,  sympathetic  woman  who  had  encouraged 
the  son  to  write,  and,  by  reading  his  verses  aloud,  had 
shown  them  to  be  poetry.  The  same  justice  which 
she  had  rendered  to  the  work  of  the  young,  blind 
poet,  Philip  Bourke  Marston,  would  now  be  rendered 
to  some  of  her  own  poems,  he  said.  Mrs.  Moulton 
read  first,  ^'The  House  of  Death,"  which  was  poor 
Marston's  favorite,  and  her  beautiful  "At  Midnight," 
''  In  a  Garden,"  and  ''  Come  Back,  Dear  Days."  Mrs. 
Moulton's  winning  manner,  trainante  voice,  and  charm 
of  presence  was  felt  by  all.  The  poet  —  the  woman  — 
seemed  revealed  in  all  the  beauty  of  her  artistic  genius 
and  her  loveliness  of  presence.  Another  of  the  great 
pleasures  of  the  evening  was  the  reading  of  Boyle 
O'Reilly,  which  included  some  of  his  crisp,  keen,  elec- 
tric epigrams,  followed  by  the  thrilling  "  Ensign  Epps," 
and  "  In  Bohemia." 

Charles  Follen  Adams  was  introduced  with  a  stroke 
of  wit,  and  recited  his  "  Leedle  Yawcob  Strauss  "  in 
an  inimitable  German  accent,  and  Miss  Bates  gave  "  My 
Thought  and  I,"  and  some  tributary  verses  which  she 
had  written  to  Longfellow.  In  closing.  Colonel  Hig- 
ginson  paid  a  graceful  and  fitting  tribute  to  Miss  Bates, 


DAWN   OF   THE   TWENTIETH    CENTURY     453 

and  the  evening  ended  with  the  reading  of  Lowell's 
beautiful  lines  to  Longfellow,  beginning,  "  I  need  not 
praise  the  sweetness  of  his  song."  The  entertainment 
was  one  of  the  most  interesting  occasions  in  both  life 
and  literature. 

The  name  of  Hezekiah  Butterworth  is  one  to  conjure 
with  in  his  home  city  where  he  is  known,  —  not  only 
as  the  author  of  the  finest  poem  on  Lincoln  that  has 
ever  been  written  and  of  charming  books  of  travel,  but 
also  as  a  delightful  lecturer  and  one  of  the  most  ideal 
of  friends. 

A  curious  thing  was  noted  by  the  entire  audience  at 
this  reading.  All  the  evening  there  was  a  sound  of 
faint,  far-away  music  in  the  air.  It  was  as  delicate  as 
the  strain  of  an  iEolian  harp,  as  mournful  as  a  burial 
chant;  and  it  was  a  peculiarly  haunting  eerie  sound. 
"  Telegraph  wires  ? "  exclaimed  a  friend  to  whom  it 
was  related.  But  there  were  no  wires  there.  "A 
device  of  the  freshmen,"  was  suggested.  The  ''  Trans- 
cript," alluding  to  this  curious  sound,  said  :  — 

"  It  seemed  like  the  ghost  of  vanished  music  haunting 
the  hall.  When  Mr.  William  Winter,  in  a  peculiarly  mourn- 
ful voice  and  accent,  read  his  own  poem  upon  Long- 
fellow's death,  which  has  these  lines  often  repeated,  like 
a  refrain, 

"  '  And  still  the  night  wind's  moan  goes  on, 
And  still  the  mystery  is  here,' 

this  strange,  ghostly  music  echoed  the  refrain  with  a 
shuddering  sort  of  weirdness." 


454  BOSTON    DAYS 


One  could  hardly  help  fancying  this  had  some  un- 
known origin,  so  peculiarly  unaccountable  was  the 
occurrence,  and  it  was  plainly  heard  by  two  or  three 
hundred  people. 

Oscar  Fay  Adams,  poet,  story-writer,  and  literary 
editor  and  compiler,  is  one  of  the  younger  Boston  au- 
thors whose  charming  gifts,  fastidious  taste,  and  well- 
directed  energy  have  contributed  greatly  to  latter-day 
culture.  The  author  of  that  inimitable  collection  of 
tales  under  the  title  of  "  The  Archbishop's  Unguarded 
Moment,  and  Other  Stories,"  and  of  poems  that  have 
just  claim  to  permanent  importance  in  lyric  art,  —  Mr. 
Adams  has  also  done  much  other  work,  in  various  direc- 
tions, that  is  full  of  interest  and  of  value. 

One  of  the  most  perfect  specimens  of  exquisite  lit- 
erary art  in  the  English  language  is  a  romance  entitled 
"  The  Duchess  Emilia,"  by  Prof.  Barrett  Wendell,  of 
Harvard,  an  author  whose  criticism  and  lectures  are, 
while  often  unique  and  exciting  controversy,  always  of 
serious  claim  to  attention.  Professor  Wendell's  fine 
monograph  on  Mr.  Francis  Parkman,  and  his  notable 
biography  of  Cotton  Mather,  are  among  the  permanent 
works  in  American  literature.  Of  Cotton  Mather,  Pro- 
fessor Wendell  says :  — 

"  Day  after  day,  week  after  week,  month  after  month, 
year  after  year,  he  cast  himself  in  the  dust  before  the 
Lord ;  he  strained  Ms  eyes  for  a  fleeting  glimpse  of  the 
robes  and  crowns  of  G-od's  angels,  his  ears  for  the  faintest 
echo  of  their  celestial  music.  Pare  in  motive,  noble  in 
purpose,    his   whole    life    was    an    unending    effort    to 


DAWN   OF   THE   TWENTIETH   CENTURY     455 

strengthen  in  himself  that  phase  of  human  nature  whose 
inner  token  is  a  riot  of  mystical  emotion.  .  .  .  The  pas- 
sionate idealism  to  which  he  held  with  all  his  heart  —  like 
honest  priests  since  the  world  began  —  colored  and 
glorified,  and  made  divine  even  the  meanest  things  in 
petty  earthly  life  he  knew.  .  .  .  All  about  him  he  saw 
ever  crescent  disappointment  and  sorrow,  and  earthly 
failure ;  but  he  never  lost  heart,  not  even  for  a  moment 
ceased  effort  with  word  and  deed  alike,  to  do  good  to 
mankind.  ...  In  his  ministry  Cotton  Mather  never  fal- 
tered, .  .  .  and  among  the  Puritan  priests  there  was  never 
one,  I  believe,  more  faithfully  earnest  than  this  Cotton 
Mather." 

No  other  such  perfect  interpretation  of  this  unique 
and  remarkable  man  has  ever  been  given  to  him  whose 
mortal  body  has  lain  for  nearly  two  hundred  years  in 
the  old  Mather  tomb  on  Copp's  Hill. 

So  great  in  influence,  so  impressive  in  heroic  noble- 
ness th^t  she  seems  to  belong  to  the  world  rather  than 
to  any  one  city,  —  Mary  A.  Livermore  is,  nevertheless, 
Boston  born  and  bred,  and  her  name  confers  added  lustre 
even  to  that  period  when  ^'  the  total  air  was  fame."  The 
great  directive  force  of  the  work  of  the  Sanitary  Com- 
mission in  the  Civil  War,  which  she  organized  and 
conducted ;  the  woman  whose  impassioned  eloquence 
as  an  orator  is  unrivalled  in  all  the  ages  ;  whose  great- 
ness of  soul  is  only  equalled  by  her  nobility  of  heart. 
Mrs.  Livermore  is  great  —  not  only  because  she  has  a 
strong  and  active  and  finely  disciplined  intellect;  not 
only  because  she  has  a  storehouse  of  deeper  and  more 
varied  experiences  than  any  other  one  American  woman, 


456  BOSTON   DAYS 


on  account  of  her  important  work  in  the  war  and  wide 
relations  to  humanity,  —  but  more  than  all  because 
she  represents  the  spirit  of  American  institutions. 
Patriotism  is  a  duty,  she  feels,  and  she  lives  this  duty. 
Who  are  you,  she  will  say,  that  your  street,  your  neigh- 
borhood, your  town,  your  country,  shall  not  be  better 
and  happier  that  you  live  in  it. 

Mrs.  Livermore  may  well  be  considered  the  most 
potent  influence  of  the  Nineteenth  century  on  American 
womanhood.  Mrs.  Howe,  with  her  exquisite  culture 
and  philosophic  thought,  Lucy  Stone,  with  her  in- 
vincible energy  and  sweetness  of  nature,  Susan  B. 
Anthony,  with  her  stirring  logic  and  good  sense,  Eliza- 
beth Cady  Stanton,  with  her  serene  sway  and  invincible 
logic,  Frances  Willard,  in  her  special  work  for  temper- 
ance, always  serene  and  strong  on  moral  heights,  — 
these,  and  other  leaders  of  social  achievement  who 
might  be  named,  have  all  contributed  greatly  and  nobly ; 
but  out  of  all  this  brilliant  galaxy  the  name  of  Mary  A. 
Livermore  shines  like  a  fixed  star  in  the  heavens.  It 
is  she  who  has  traversed  the  entire  country  as  the  great 
popular  lecturer,  not  specifically  for  suffrage,  or  temper- 
ance, or  education,  but  including  these,  and  as  the  great 
inspirer ;  one  whose  power  made  for  the  enlarge- 
ment and  the  uplifting  of  the  general  life.  She  has 
always  been  close  to  the  hearts  of  the  people,  and 
without  any  invidious  comparison,  it  must  be  said  that 
she  has  exerted  a  wider  and  a  more  universal  influence 
than  any  other  one  American  woman.  In  Mrs.  Liver- 
more's  lectures,  and  in  even  her  most  informal  talks, 


DAWN  OF   THE  TWENTIETH    CENTURY     457 

there  is  a  depth  of  spiritual  vitality  that  appeals  in- 
stantly and  profoundly  to  her  audience,  and  establishes 
a  swift  and  direct  relation  between  speaker  and  hearer. 
In  this  lies,  perhaps,  the  secret  of  her  marvellous  power. 
For  thirty  years  the  bare  announcement  that  Mrs. 
Livermore  was  to  speak  would  fill  any  lecture  hall, 
east  or  west,  to  overflowing.  She  has  the  divine  gift 
of  sympathy.  She  is  in  touch  with  all  the  infinite 
power  of  the  unseen  life.  She  was  born  with  the  pro- 
foundly spiritual  temperament,  not  merely  an  ethical 
bias,  but  the  true  spirituality  of  life.  There  is  a  wide 
difference  between  the  two.  Ethics  and  morality  are 
negative ;  faith  and  love  are  the  positive  and  magnetic 
qualities.  "  I  am  not  ashamed/'  said  Mrs.  Livermore, 
once  in  conversation,  '^  to  confess  myself  a  convert  to  the 
power  of  prayer."  The  words  were  as  simple  in  their 
sublimity,  or  as  sublime  in  their  simplicity,  as  those  of 
Saint  Paul  when  he  said,  ^^  I  am  not  ashamed  of  the 
gospel  of  Christ." 

^'Whatever  contribution  to  progress  I  have  been 
able  to  make,"  said  Mrs.  Livermore  one  morning,  "  has 
been  entirely  due  to  my  husband.  From  the  day  of  our 
marriaore  to  that  of  his  death  he  surrounded  me  with 
the  most  perfect  atmosphere  for  my  thought  and  work. 
He  left  me  entirely  free.  We  could  talk  over  all  sub- 
jects ;  we  could  difffer  upon  them  without  heat.  When 
we  were  married  I  was  a  member  of  the  Baptist 
Church,  and  he  a  Universalist  minister,  —  and  for  three 
years  I  continued  to  go  to  my  own  church.  He  would 
ask   me   on  my   return  if  I  had  heard  an  interesting 


458  BOSTON   DAYS 


sermon.  There  was  only  one  subject,  so  far  as  I 
know,  on  which  he  felt  that  my  opinion  was  absolutely 
wrong,  and  that  was  the  matter  of  protection  and  free 
trade." 

"Not  a  very  personal  subject,  surely,  between  hus- 
band and  wife,"  remarked  her  guest. 

'^No.  On  that,"  she  replied,  "he  used  to  tell  me 
that  I  spoke  well,  but  that  my  premises  were  all 
wrong." 

The  home  of  Mrs.  Livermore  is  in  Melrose,  a  beauti- 
ful suburban  town  some  eight  miles  from  Boston,  with 
the  romantic  scenery  of  the  Middlesex  Fells  all  around. 
On  one  side  she  looks  out  on  a  beautiful  blue  lake, 
with  hills  in  the  near  distance.  It  is  a  pleasant  home, 
with  spacious,  hospitable  rooms,  and  books  and  pic- 
tures everywhere  in  the  cozy  way  of  a  house  that 
has  grown  into  a  home.  Many  houses  never  become 
homes  at  all.  When  they  do  it  is  because  they  express 
the  advancing  household  life  from  year  to  year  —  the 
new  books  bought  and  read  together  and  talked  over; 
the  pictures  that  are  the  gift  of  friend  or  artist  or  the 
purchase  of  appreciation :  the  furnishing  and  decora- 
tions that  have  a  certain  fitness  as  the  manifestation  of 
the  individual  taste  and  selection  that  brings  them 
together. 

One  is  often  amused  by  seeing  in  the  city  a  palace 
built  and  appropriately  decorated  and  furnished,  —  by 
carte  blanche  given  to  the  upholsterer  and  the  artist,  — 
and  when  all  is  completed,  even  to  the  smallest  detail, 
the  owners  close  and  barricade  it  and  go  to  Europe  for 


DAWN   OF   THE   TWENTIETH    CENTURY     459 

three  years.  Not  so  the  home  of  the  Livermores.  It 
has  grown  year  by  year  as  life  in  tastes  and  require- 
ments and  means  expanded  for  the  husband  and  wife, 
whose  beautiful  half  century  of  wedded  love  is  as 

"  —  perfect  music  set  to  noble  words." 

Mrs.  Livermore's  study  is  lined  with  books.  Her 
large,  roll-top  desk  is  in  a  corner  by  a  window,  her 
revolving  chair  before  it.  Its  pigeon-holes  are  full,  and 
the  waste-basket,  full  even  in  the  early  morning  of 
envelopes,  reveals  the  voluminous  correspondence 
every  mail  brings  upon  her  in  an  avalanche  that  only  her 
great  executive  and  administrative  power  enables  her  to 
handle.  She  is  consulted  on  every  conceivable  subject. 
The  scope,  number,  and  variety  of  the  letters  which 
Mrs.  Livermore  receives  in  any  one  day  would  suggest 
a  good  degree  of  the  world's  happenings.  She  is 
appealed  to  by  great  firms  and  societies  for  a  confiden- 
tial opinion  regarding  certain  individuals,  or  movements, 
or  objects.  Her  judgment  settles  many  a  matter  of 
which  the  world  little  dreams.  There  lies  behind  her 
eighty  years  of  the  most  flawless  integrity,  admirable 
poise,  great  good  sense,  keen,  and,  one  might  say,  practi- 
cally unerring  moral  discrimination ;  and  an  irresistible 
energy  that  has  been  perpetually  fed  from  the  Divine 
energy  and  whose  enthusiasm  has  been  organized  and 
applied  to  the  most  remarkable  work  for  the  advance- 
ment of  humanity.  About  the  study  are  portraits  of 
Dr.  Livermore,  whose  companionship  has  only  grown 
still  closer  and  more  responsive  since  he  passed  into  the 


460  BOSTON   DAYS 


unseen ;  of  Liicj  Stone,  Julia  Ward  Howe,  and  other 
friends.  Here  she  writes  and  thinks  and  produces 
her  literary  work. 

To  one  with  any  fancy  for  tracing  out  the  correspon- 
dences and  the  significances  of  life,  there  is  something 
impressive  in  the  way  that  Mary  Ashton  Rice  and  the 
Rev.  Daniel  Parker  Livermore  first  met.  It  was  in 
Duxbury,  a  seacoast  town  down  on  what  is  called  the 
^'  South  Shore  "  from  Boston,  on  a  Christmas  eve.  Mrs. 
Livermore  (then  Miss  Rice)  had  gone  out  for  a  walk. 
The  sea  was  at  flood-tide  and  the  radiant  moonlight 
traced  its  broad  track  of  silver  across  the  bay.  She 
found  herself  near  the  Universalist  church,  when,  as 
she  says,  "  a  triumphant  burst  of  song  rang  out  on  the 
night  air.  ^  Glory  to  God  in  the  highest ;  on  earth 
peace  and  good  will  to  men ! ' "  Again  was  the  glad 
song  repeated,  "  as  if  the  singers  were  unable  to  repress 
their  joy,"  she  has  said,  "  and  I  listened  till  the  anthem 
was  ended.     Should  I  enter  ?  " 

What  a  picture  in  this  moment  and  what  a  crisis  it 
was  —  the  point,  indeed,  which  determined  all  the 
future  life,  the  marvellous  influence  and  work  of  the 
nation's  divinest  helper  —  Mary  A.  Livermore.  Here 
was  the  hour  of  destiny  —  the  hour  freighted  with  that 
intense  significance  of  life  which  is  seldom  recognized 
except  from  the  perspective  of  the  long  years  to  come. 
Should  she  enter  ?  That  church  portal  was  the  "  open 
door  "  of  her  life.  If  she  had  not  entered,  it  would 
have  been  much  the  worse  for  the  world  and  for  all 
who  live  in  it.     But  when  a  nature  is  held  in  con- 


DAWN   OF   THE  TWENTIETH   CENTURY     46l 

stant  loyalty  to  God  and  the  Divine  will  the  leading  is 
sure  and  the  angels  hold  their  charge  concerning  the 
life  which  keeps  true  to  the  heavenly  influence.  Such 
a  life  was  that  of  the  young  girl  just  entering  her  early 
twenties,  who  paused  in  the  moonlight  on  Christmas 
eve  with  the  silver  track  of  light  on  the  ocean  before 
her,  with  the  choral  music  of  "Glory  to  God  in  the 
highest "  in  the  air,  and  with  clouds  of  witnesses  unseen 
above.  Was  not  that  moment  one  whose  exaltation 
well  initiated  the  noble,  far-reaching,  and  profoundly 
significant  influence  upon  the  world  that  for  more  than 
fifty  years  has  been  exerted  by  Mary  A.  Li  verm  ore  ? 

She  entered.  A  blond  young  man  of  twenty-five  was 
in  the  pulpit.  "And  thou  shait  call  His  name  Jesus, 
for  He  shall  save  His  people  from  their  sins,"  was  the 
text.  "  Save  His  people  from  their  sins !  "  Mrs.  Liver- 
more  says  she  mentally  ejaculated  ;  "  that  is  not  the 
correct  reading."  She  consulted  a  Bible  and  conceded 
the  correctness.  "  It  was  a  statement  that  had  never 
arrested  my  attention,"  she  said,  "  or  made  any  impres- 
sion upon  me."     The  sermon  began. 

"It  was  not  from  endless  punishment  that  Christ 
came  to  save  us,"  said  the  young  preacher,  "  but  from 
our  sins.  He  came  to  teach  us  how  to  live  that  we 
might  avoid  the  mistakes  of  wrong-doings  to  which  we 
are  liable."  He  went  on  with  illustration  as  familiar 
as  the  rudimentary  mathematics,  to  the  girl  who  listened 
so  intensely  and  yet  utterly  new  in  combination. 

"  A  great  peace  stole  over  me,"  she  said ;  "  a  pulsa- 
tion of  love  for  all  the  world  throbbed  through  my 


462  BOSTON   DAYS 


being."  Although  some  twenty  years  were  to  pass 
before  this  young  woman  was  to  enter  upon  her  world- 
work,  yet  this  was  the  hour  of  initiation  into  the  Divine 
purpose.  The  rest  of  the  story  is  a  matter  of  sequences. 
Would  the  young  minister  lend  her  his  sermon  to  read? 
He  would  and  he  did,  and  there  began  a  duet  of  mutual 
trust  and  love  and  sweetness  and  work  paralleled  only 
by  that  story  of  the  love  of  the  poets,  Robert  and  Eliza- 
beth Browning.  "  Aurora  Leigh  "  had  not  then  been 
written,  but  in  its  magnetic  words  the  young  minister 
might  well  have  said  to  her  :  — 

"  The  world  waits 
For  help.     Beloved,  let  us  love  so  well 
Our  work  shall  still  be  sweeter  for  our  love, 
And  still  our  love  be  sweeter  for  our  work." 

The  first  home  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Livermore  was  in 
Fall  River,  Mass.,  where  he  was  the  pastor  of  a  church, 
and  his  wife  entered  into  his  work  with  all  her  charac- 
teristic earnestness.  Not  within  these  limits  can  their 
work  be  pictured.  Largely  is  it  known  and  read  of  all 
men,  and  it  is,  as  she  has  said,  largely  due  to  the  per- 
fect conditions  which  Dr.  Livermore  created  and  made 
always  possible  for  the  genius  of  his  wife. 

It  was  he  who  encouraged  and  sustained  all  her  pub- 
lic work.  When  that  vast,  bewildering  call  of  the  sani- 
tary commission  came  and  Mrs.  Livermore  shrank  from 
its  weight  of  responsibility,  feeling  that  as  wife  and 
mother  she  could  not  leave  her  home,  it  was  her  hus- 
band who  said  to  her:  "Mary,  you  are  called  to  the 
angelic  side  of  the  war."      To  go  forth  to  help  —  ta 


DAWN   OF   THE   TWENTIETH    CENTURY     463 

heal,  to  care  for  the  wounded  and  the  sufFenng,  to 
speak  the  last  words  to  the  dying,  to  carry  aid  and 
sympathy  and  uplift  —  that  was  the  work  to  which, 
through  her  husband's  sustaining  counsel,  she  gave 
herself.  Then,  the  war  being  over,  came  that  extraor- 
dinary lecturing  experience,  of  Mrs.  Livermore's,  extend- 
ing over  a  quarter  of  a  century,  during  which  she  was  a 
burning  and  a  shining  light  in  almost  every  city  and 
town  in  the  United  States. 

She  carried  the  message  of  intelligent  activity  and  of 
moral  inspiration.  Whatever  her  theme,  —  in  educa- 
tion, temperance,  politics,  literature,  or  affairs,  —  she 
aroused,  stimulated,  and  uplifted  the  people.  From 
the  greatest  statesman,  the  most  brilliant  leader  of  the 
literati,  the  reformer,  — to  the  woman  in  domestic  life  in 
a  Western  town,  —  all  thronged  to  hear  Mrs.  Livermore. 
No  one  was  too  lofty  to  be  benefited ;  no  one  too 
humble  to  understand.  IsTor  need  one  allude  to  Mrs. 
Livermore's  lectures  as  a  chapter  that  is  closed.  Only 
recently  the  Y.  M.  C.  A.  of  Melrose  begged  her  to 
address  them.  A  thoroughly  orthodox  organization, 
Mrs.  Livermore  reminded  them  that  by  their  ideas  she 
was  a  heretic.  They  smiled.  If  such  lives  as  Mrs. 
Livermore's  are  those  of  heretics,  heresy  will  be  at  a 
premium. 

One  characteristic  little  incident  of  her  lecturing  life 
is  this :  The  rector  of  a  very  prominent  church  in  Boston 
went  to  Mrs.  Livermore  to  ask  her  to  address  the  young 
men  of  his  parish  on  temperance.  He  told  her  they 
were  the  very  flower  of  aristocracy,  culture,  and  wealth, 


464  BOSTON   DAYS 


—  young  men  to  whom  all  the  kingdoms  of  the  earth 
were  open,  but  who  were  undermining  their  powers  by 
fashionable  intemperance.  (This  was  some  years  ago, 
when  the  accepted  standards  of  fashion  were  less 
refined  than  now.)  The  rector  went  on  to  explain  to 
Mrs.  Livermore  that  the  regulation  temperance  talk 
would  have  no  effect  at  all  on  this  particular  audience. 
So  she  started  on  a  new  tack.  She  primed  herself  with 
the  scientific  side  of  the  subject,  —  the  disintegrating 
power  of  alcohol  on  the  physical  nature,  sapping  all  the 
springs  of  vitality  and  weakening  and  disintegrating  the 
intellectual  powers.  The  day  and  the  hour  came.  An 
audience  that  taxed  the  resources  of  the  room  was 
present,  —  the  young  men,  their  mothers,  sisters,  wives, 
and  sweethearts.  The  attitude  of  the  men  was  one  of 
great  nonchalance  and  polite  indifference,  with  a  tacit 
expression  to  the  lecturer  that  they  had  no  objection  to 
listening,  but  that  nothing  she  could  say  would  make 
any  impression  upon  them,  and  she  might  as  well  accept 
that  as  a  foregone  conclusion. 

Mrs.  Livermore  looked  them  over  and  was  in  nowise 
disturbed.  She  opened  her  discourse.  She  marshalled 
fact  after  fact  of  scientific  accuracy  drawn  from  unques- 
tionable authority.  Her  hearers  began  to  sit  up  with 
an  alert  attention.  They  listened  with  an  interest  that 
deepened  to  eagerness.  They  became  responsive  and 
sympathetic  with  the  masterly  argument.  At  its  close 
they  gathered  around  her;  they  inquired  into  her 
authorities,  and  copied  the  names  of  treatise  and  medi- 
cal or  scientific  author.     And  as  she  entered  her  car- 


DAWN   OF   THE   TWENTIETH   CENTURY     465 

riage  they  brought  her  a  gigantic  box  of  jacqueminot 
roses  —  fifty  or  more  of  those  long-stemmed  jacque- 
minots which  are  fairly  a  forest  of  blazing  splendor,  and 
which  required  the  services  of  brakeman  and  policeman 
to  aid  her  in  carrying  until  she  was  finally  bestowed  in 
her  own  carriage,  with  which  her  husband  met  her 
when  she  alighted  from  the  train  at  Melrose. 

The  present  years  of  Mrs.  Livermore's  life  are  full  of 
interest  and  beauty.  Her  intellectual  power  is  only 
clearer  and  deeper  as  time  adds  increasing  study,  cul- 
ture, and  thought.  Her  health  is  fairly  good ;  she  often 
addresses  audiences  —  and  she  is  seeing  people  in  all 
possible  relations,  from  those  of  her  intimate  friends  to 
the  strangers  who  make  to  her  a  perpetual  pilgrimage. 
Problems  of  life  of  all  kinds  —  the  most  intimate  and 
far-reaching  —  are  continually  submitted  to  her.  To 
each  and  all  she  speaks  the  word  of  counsel  and  of 
wisdom. 

Mrs.  Livermore's  household  includes  her  sister,  a 
daughter,  her  secretary,  and  servants.  Just  opposite 
her  house  is  the  pretty  home  of  her  married  daughter, 
where  a  family  of  grandchildren  are  devoted  to  her,  as 
are  her  townspeople.  She  is  the  beloved  as  well  as  the 
venerated  friend  of  each  and  all,  and  the  days  are  filled 
with  manifestations  of  this  love  and  respect.  Although 
the  town  of  Melrose  made  its  municipal  celebration  of 
Mrs.  Livermore's  eightieth  birthday  on  Dec.  18,  1900, 
there  is  no  suggestion  of  traditional  "  old  age  "  about 
this  benignant  and  charmingly  interesting  lady  whose 
presence  is  a  perfect  energy  of  inspiration  toward  all 

30 


466  BOSTON   DAYS 


that  is  lovely  and  pure  and  of  good  report.  Her  sym- 
pathies with  youth  are  as  keen  as  her  judgment  is  wise. 
Her  hold  on  eternal  truth  is  unfailing,  and  her  life  is 
that  of  the  profound  spirituality  that  recognizes  the 
perpetual  interpretation  of  the  seen  by  the  unseen^  and 
the  perfect  and  unfailing  communion  of  spirit  to  spirit 
across  the  change  we  call  death.  An  idyl  in  human 
history  is  the  beautiful  and  forever-united  life  of  the 
Kev.  Dr.  Daniel  P.  and  Mary  Ashton  Rice  Livermore. 

On  a  recent  celebration  of  Lincoln's  birthday  Mrs. 
Livermore  was  the  orator  of  the  occasion,  and  for 
almost  two  hours,  in  an  address  given  entirely  without 
notes,  she  held  the  breathless  attention  of  a  great 
audience  who  felt  it  to  be  a  classic  masterpiece.  What 
was  the  secret  of  it  ?  Who  may  analyze  the  power  ? 
She  passed  in  review  the  salient  points  of  Lincoln's 
heredity  and  surroundings  and  early  influences,  showing 
them  in  such  vivid  relation  to  the  great  significance  of 
his  after-life  as  to  offer  a  truer  biographical  picture  of 
Lincoln  than  has,  perhaps,  before  been  given  save  in 
that  sublime  interpretation  of  his  life  by  Col.  Henry 
Watterson.  Mrs.  Livermore's  knowledge  of  Lincoln 
was  contemporary,  and  from  the  standpoint  of  the  most 
intelligent  and  comprehensive  sympathy.  In  the  thrilling 
events  of  his  lifetime  she  bore  no  unimportant  part.  She 
depicted  his  unvarying  goodness  of  heart,  his  patience 
under  misconstruction,  his  magnanimity,  his  nobleness, 
and  that  wonderful  life  lived  again  before  the  audience. 
The  lecture  made  a  red-letter  day  in  its  wonderful 
fulness  of  interest. 


DAWN   OF   THE   TWENTIETH   CENTURY     467 

Mrs.  Livermore  has  contributed  immeasurably  to 
the  true  couceptions  of  spirituality.  She  has  come 
through  clearer  and  closer  study  of  its  phenomena 
and  by  her  receptivity  to  the  life  in  the  unseen,  to 
comprehend  the  essential  nature  of  the  life  here  and 
that  which  is  to  come,  and  to  teach  the  vital  truth  in  a 
manner  whose  impressiveness  is  wholly  her  own.  Stand- 
ing on  the  brink  of  more  than  eighty  years,  she  looks 
before  and  after.  There  is  an  amusing  little  story  that 
some  years  ago  there  was  a  gathering  at  which  were  a 
number  of  people  well  on  toward  fourscore,  and  that 
the  poet  Whittier  said  to  Mrs.  Livermore  :  ^^  How  old 
art  thou,  Mary  ? "  She  replied,  "  Sixty-five,  Green- 
leaf,"  and  he  rejoined,  "  Get  thee  hence !  get  thee 
hence  !  thou  'rt  nothing  but  a  giddy  girl." 

After  the  death  of  her  husband,  the  Rev.  Dr.  Daniel 
P.  Livermore,  Mrs.  Livermore  wrote  to  a  friend  :  — 

"  Among  the  last  words  of  Mr.  Livermore  was  his  wish 
that  I  would  go  on  as  I  had  been  living.  '  Don't  give  up 
any  work  you  are  engaged  in ;  only  try  not  to  overdo.' 
I  have  great  need  of  work  now.  It  is  to  me  more  than 
money,  sympathy,  food,  or  raiment.  I  must  live  worthily ; 
I  cannot  be  overborne  now,  at  close  of  my  life,  by  sorrow, 
depression,  and  loneliness." 

These  noble  words  are  so  universal  in  their  signifi- 
cance that  they  may  well  be  a  theme  for  consideration. 
For  when  one  comes  to  think  of  it,  the  cure  for  all  the 
ills  in  the  world  is  to  live  worthily.  An  unfailing 
recipe  for  unhappiness  and  misery  is  to  live  in  self- 
contemplation  ;   an    unfailing    recipe   for   a  lofty  and 


468  BOSTON   DAYS 


noble  order  of  happiness  is  to  live  in  generous  thought 
and  purpose  and  out-going  sympathies  for  other  lives 
and  for  the  things  that  make  for  progress. 

All  the  interests,  motives,  and  aspirations  that  make 
up  daily  life  extend  themselves  so  indefinitely  into  the 
unseen  world  that  neither  their  quality  nor  their  course 
of  direction  can  be  adequately  discussed  save  as  the 
larger  recognition  is  given  to  this  ever-advancing  horizon 
line.  The  outer  life  is  but  a  fraction  projected  from  the 
completeness  that  lies  in  this  larger  universe. 

Rev.  Charles  Gordon  Ames,  D.D.,  who  succeeded 
James  Freeman  Clarke  as  pastor  of  the  "  Church  of  the 
Disciples,"  will  leave  a  very  distinctive  impress  upon 
Boston  life.  As  a  preacher,  his  sermons  abound  in 
epigrammatic  passages  of  the  finest  spiritual  signifi- 
cance. In  the  religious  history  of  America  he  will 
rank  among  the  great  preachers  who  have  from  time 
to  time  stirred  the  mind  and  uplifted  the  hearts  of  the 
people.  From  Whitefield  and  Jonathan  Edwards  on 
to  Theodore  Parker,  Henry  Ward  Beecher,  Dr.  Bush- 
nell,  James  Freeman  Clarke,  Edward  Everett  Hale, 
Phillips  Brooks,  George  A.  Gordon,  and  E.  Winchester 
Donald,  —  in  this  galaxy  the  name  of  Dr.  Ames  shines 
like  a  star.  Boston  has  always  been  most  fortunate  in 
her  clergy,  including  so  many  men  of  eminence  whose 
lives  and  public  spirit  have  illustrated  the  ideals  they 
enforced  from  the  pulpit. 

The  incalculable  aid  to  all  nobler  life  by  the  ministry 
of  the  Rev.  Dr.  George  A.  Gordon  and  by  his  literary 
work  as  well,  and  by  the   divinely  unselfish  life  and 


DAWN   OF   THE   TWENTIETH   CENTURY     469 

work  of  Father  Field,  the  noble  energy  of  Dr.  Leigh- 
ton  Parks,  and  of  many  others  still,  happily,  in  the  midst 
of  Boston  life,  are  the  priceless  treasures  of  the  City  of 
Beautiful  Ideals. 

The  idea  is  sometimes  advanced  that  people  are 
"  outgrowing  the  churches ;  "  that  the  general  diffu- 
sion of  literature,  the  lecture  platform,  the  Sunday 
newspapers,  athletics,  amusements  in  general,  —  to  say 
nothing  of  Buddhism,  Mohammedism,  Theosophy,  the 
following  of  Abbas  EfFendi,  the  various  forms  of 
"  Mind  Cure "  and  Christian  Science,  or  palmistry, 
astrology,  and  other  magic  divinations  have  crowded  out 
the  church.  The  idea  that  these  are  more  than  a  sub- 
stitute for  religious  organization  is  an  idea  that  will 
never  take  root  in  American  life.  Our  country  is  one 
founded  upon  moral  ideals,  and  these  are  stimulated 
and  nurtured  by  organized  religion.  The  church  is 
expanding  with  the  age.  It  stands  to-day  not  only  for 
its  regular  religious  services  of  song  and  worship,  but 
as  a  centre  of  activity  which  extends  in  countless  direc- 
tions and  which  appeals  under  numberless  forms,  — 
directions  and  forms  which  suggest  themselves  to  every 
one.  There  is  abundance  of  room  for  every  variety  of 
religious  thought,  and,  in  so  far  as  it  is  sincere  and  held 
as  an  aid  to  the  attainment  of  divine  ideals,  perhaps  the 
more  deeply  all  forms  of  its  thought  and  philosophy  are 
studied,  the  better  it  may  be  for  the  community. 

The  "  Church  of  the  Disciples  "  is  included  among 
those  of  the  Unitarian  faith,  but  it  stands  for  some- 
thing far  more  vital  than  speculative  inquiry.     It  is 


470  BOSTON   DAYS 


the  church  ^^  founded  on  elective  affinities,  not  on  the 
purse  principle/'  as  James  Freeman  Clarke  said,  —  the 
church  that  has  such  a  wealth  of  spiritual  inheritance 
that  one  approaches  it  only  with  tender  reverence. 
Its  early  history  w^  identified  with  the  history  of  the 
life  of  James  Freeman  Clarke,  who  for  fifty  years  was 
its  only  pastor.  At  his  death  by  his  previous  request 
Hev.  Charles  Gordon  Ames,  then  pastor  of  a  church 
in  Philadelphia,  was  invited  to  the  charge,  which  he 
accepted. 

Dr.  Ames's  service  in  the  Church  of  the  Disciples 
often  leaves  its  impress  on  the  mind  as  a  beautiful 
picture.  The  portrait  of  James  Freeman  Clarke,  painted 
by  William  Hunt,  looks  out  from  the  lilies  within  which 
it  is  often  wreathed.  The  reading-desk  is  filled  with 
flowers ;  palms  and  shining  lilies  encircle  the  minister 
as  he  stands  in  his  pulpit,  his  countenance  illuminated 
with  the  light  of  the  spirit,  the  whole  atmosphere  one 
of  silence  and  beauty.  The  flowers  seem  to  fitly  adorn 
a  sacred  festival.  The  music  floats  on  the  air,  all  sun- 
shine and  exaltation  and  gladness. 

"The" great  days  of  life,"  we  hear  the  pastor  saying, 
"  are  not  the  days  when  something  happens  outside  of  us. 
They  are  the  days  when  something  happens  inside,— days 
of  spiritual  expansion ;  days  of  discovery  or  illumination, 
when  we  gain  clearer  perception  of  high  realities,  see 
deeper  meanings  in  life ;  days  of  moral  re-enforcement, 
when  we  make  decisions  and  are  prepared  for  worthier 
achievement.  What  a  day  for  the  blind,  when  the  scales 
fall  and  his  eyes  are  opened !     A  white  day  —  a  day  of 


DAWN   OF   THE   TWENTIETH    CENTURY     471 

light !  Our  greater  birthdays  are  the  days  when  we  enter 
into  truer  life  and  come  into  possession  of  that  inner  good 
which  is  our  proper  inheritance  as  the  children  of  Glod." 

One  of  the  most  memorable  sermons  of  Dr.  Ames 
is  that  entitled  "  The  American  Republic  and  the 
Kingdom  of  God,"  in  which  the  true  values  of  life  are 
presented  with  great  impressiveness. 

The  sermons  of  Dr.  Ames  are  held  to  be  of  the  finest 
order,  and  his  personal  following  adds  largely  to  his 
congregation  beyond  those  who  are  enrolled  in  mem- 
bership of  the  church.  The  prevailing  spirit  of  the 
teachings  of  Dr.  Ames  is  that  of  the  inspiration  of 
the  higher  life,  —  the  possibility  as  well  as  the  duty 
to  live  nobly  day  by  day.  His  sermons  have  a  very 
distinctive  quality  which  is  difficult  to  define  in  words. 
They  are  full  of  that  radiant  energy  which  communi- 
cates a  spiritual  impulse,  the  literary  quality  is  fine, 
and  there  is  usually  a  very  deep  vein  of  philosophy 
running  through  them ;  but  beyond  this  is  a  certain 
unusualness  in  a  simple,  direct,  forcible,  and  impressive 
presentation  of  truth  that  enters  into  the  very  heart 
of  life  and  seems  to  implant  vital  germs  of  the  diviner 
spirit.  It  is  a  quality  that  leads  one  to  feel  after  the 
service  is  over  that  with  him  old  things  have  passed 
away  and  all  has  become  new;  that  there  is  a  new 
heaven  and  a  new  earth ;  that  he  goes  homeward  not 
only  refreshed,  but  renewed  in  his  spiritual  life ;  that 
all  his  future  is  to  express  this  nobler  purpose  and 
that  all  life  must  henceforth  be  lived  on  this  higher 
plane. 


472  BOSTON  DAYS 


That  pleasant  home  on  Chestnut  Street  where  the 
cordial  hospitality  of  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Ames  radiates  its 
cheer,  seems  to  hold  in  itself  the  loveliness  of  the 
Boston  days  that  have  gone  from  all  save  memory,  and 
all  the  promise,  too,  of  the  new  Boston,  —  the  Boston 
of  the  Twentieth  century. 

Mrs.  Fanny  B.  Ames  —  the  wife  of  Dr.  Ames  —  is 
one  of  the  most  brilliant  women  of  the  age,  both  in 
scholarly  culture  and  in  directive  power.  A  leader  in 
many  organizations,  her  charming  personality  makes 
itself  an  effective  factor  in  social  advancement. 

Mrs.  Ednah  D.  Cheney,  whose  work  in  intellectual 
and  philosophic  progress  is  so  important  a  feature  in 
the  social  development  of  this  City  of  Beautiful  Ideals, 
has,  among  other  contributions  to  belles  lettres,  compiled 
a  volume  of  translations  of  Michael  Angelo's  poems, 
including  some  of  her  own,  and  others  by  Mr.  Frank 
B.  Sanborn,  Mrs.  Julia  Ward  Howe,  Mr.  John  S. 
Dwight,  and  Miss  Eva  Channing,  together  with  transla- 
tions made  by  Taylor,  Harford,  Symonds,  and  Southey. 

No  record  of  the  Nineteenth  century  in  Boston 
could  fail  to  include  a  reference  to  the  oldest  club 
organization  of  women,  called  "The  New  England 
Woman's  Club,"  of  which  Mrs.  Howe  has  been  the 
life-long  president,  and  Mrs.  Cheney  one  of  its  most 
important  directors.  In  a  little  reminiscence  of  the  club's 
memorial  days,  Mrs.  Abby  Morton  Diaz  has  said  :  — 

"  Who  will  ever  forget  the  tributes  of  James  Freeman 
Clarke,  Frederic  Hedge,  William  H.  Channing,  Elizabeth 
Peabody,  and    the  glorious    anthems  of  Christopher  P. 


DAWN   OF   THE   TWENTIETH    CENTURY     473 

Cranch?  At  the  centeDary  of  the  birth  of  Washington 
Allston,  .  .  .  poems,  letters,  and  reminiscences  gave  us  a 
beautiful  insight  into  his  character  and  life,  while  William 
H.  Channing,  in  words  of  lofty  beauty,  described  the  setting 
of  the  glorious  star.  ...  At  the  centenary  birthday  of 
Michael  Angelo,  .  .  .  again,  Mr.  Cranch  composed  for 
us  an  ode  which  rings  out  as  fresh  and  bold  as  the 
'  David '  on  San  Miniato.  .  .  .  We  waited  not  till  the 
golden  bowl  was  broken  or  the  silver  cord  loosed  to  ex- 
press our  love  for  that  embodiment  of  human  sympathy 
and  broad  thought,  Elizabeth  Palmer  Peabody ;  but 
while  she  was  still  in  the  vigor  of  her  work,  we  bade  her 
to  a  feast  of  recognition.  She  said  she  felt  as  if  she 
were  dead  and  meeting  her  ideal ;  we  felt  as  if  we  were 
holding  up  an  ideal  of  true  womanhood  to  ourselves." 

The  history  of  this  club  is  almost  an  epitome  of  fclie- 
social  and  literary  history  of  the  last  quarter  of  the 
Nineteenth  century  in  Boston. 

"  The  City  of  Beautiful  Ideals  ! "  This  phrase  may 
well  be  held  as  synonymous  with  Boston.  "  The  Puri- 
tan Fathers  believed  New  England  'charged  with  a 
divine  mission  to  show  the  world*  what  human  society 
might  be  when  governed  by  constant  devotion  to  the 
revealed  law  of  God,'  "  says  Prof.  Barrett  Wendell ; 
and  it  is  only  from  this  foundation  of  faith  and  prayer 
and  devotion  to  spiritual  ideals,  that  the  Boston  of  the 
Twentieth  century  can  be  estimated.  The  two  regions 
of  thought  and  of  action  have  met  and  mingled  in  the 
forces  that  have  developed  the  Puritan  town,  which 
John  Winthrop  found  a  paradise  because  there  he 
"could  enjoy  God  and  Jesus  Christ/'  into  the  great 


474  BOSTON   DAYS 


cosmopolitan  citj  of  the  present.  But  it  is  impossible, 
as  Phillips  Brooks  once  said  in  one  of  his  great  dis- 
courses, to  separate  those  two  phases.  "It  is  impos- 
sible/' said  Dr.  Brooks,  "to  say  to  the  business  man 
that  he  shall  live  only  in  the  region  of  action;  it  is 
impossible  to  say  to  the  scholar  that  he  shall  live  only 
in  the  region  of  thought,  for  thought  and  action  make 
one  complete  and  single  life.  Thought  is  not  simply 
the  sea  upon  which  the  world  of  action  rests,  but,  like 
the  air  which  pervades  the  whole  solid  substance  of 
our  globe,  it  permeates  and  fills  it  in  every  part.  It  is 
thought  which  gives  to  it  its  life ;  it  is  thought  which 
makes  the  manifestation  of  itself  in  every  different  ac- 
tion of  man."  It  is  thought  which,  in  both  its  early 
planting  and  in  the  golden  age  of  genius,  so  magnetized 
the  Boston  atmosphere  that  gods  and  heroes  still  seem 
to  haunt  the  shade  of  the  waving  elms  on  the  historic 
old  Common,  and  voices  that  bear  divine  messages  for- 
ever thrill  the  air.  If  the  dawn  of  the  Twentieth  cen- 
tury reveals  more  exclusively  the  age  of  action,  it  is 
that  action  which  is  the  expression  and  fulfilment  of 
thought  of  the  Nineteenth  century. 

Sylvester  Baxter,  a  poet  of  ex:quisite  touch  and  a 
man  of  letters  whose  fine  power  is  winning  wide  recog- 
nition, is  also  contributing  to  the  Twentieth  century 
incalculably  important  results  in  his  effective  work  for 
park  extension  and  other  civic  improvements  that  en- 
hance the  beauty  of  Boston. 

A  true  poet  of  the  nobler  life  of  the  new  and  untried 
century  is  Alice  Brown,  who,  though  a  novelist  and 


DAWN   OF   THE   TWENTIETH    CENTURY     475 

essayist,  finds  her  most  perfect  expression  in  poetry. 
The  "  Hora  Christi "  by  Miss  Brown  is  worthy  of  artistic 
immortality.     In  it  one  stanza  reads  :  — 

"  In  cloistered  aisles  they  keep  to-day 

Thy  feast,  0  living  Lord  ! 
With  pomp  of  banner,  pride  of  song. 

And  stately  sounding  word. 
Mute  stand  the  kings  of  power  and  place, 

While  priests  of  holy  mind 
Dispense  Thy  blessed  heritage 

Of  peace  to  all  mankind." 

The  "  City  of  Beautiful  Ideals  "  is  glorified  anew  by 
the  dawn  of  a  group  of  new  and  younger  writers  who 
are  proving  that  romance  and  poetry  are  not  dead ;  that 
Pan  is  still  to  be  surprised  lurking  beneath  the  waving 
elms  of  the  old  Common.  And  among  these  Lindsay  I. 
Swift,  the  author  of  that  delightful  book  on  "  Brook 
Farm ; "  Alice  Stone  Blackwell,  a  poet  whose  poems 
hold  genuine  appeal  to  art;  Vida  D.  Scudder,  whose 
fine  work  in  literary  criticism  holds  an  unique  place; 
Katherine  Eleanor  Conway,  a  poet  of  true  gifts  and  a 
novelist  of  growing  powder ;  Helen  Choate  Prince  and 
Laura  A.  Richards,  —  are  all  names  that  are  winning  in- 
creasing recognition  in  their  contribution  to  the  progress 
of  literature.  Mrs.  Richards,  although  a  resident  of 
Maine,  was  Boston  born  and  bred  and  must  be  claimed 
in  the  Boston  group,  both  as  one  of  the  lovely  and 
accomplished  daughters  of  Mrs.  Julia  Ward  Howe,  and 
as  an  author  whose  work  is  always  published  in  this 
city. 


476  BOSTON   DAYS 


In  the  latter  years  of  the  Nineteenth  century  a  re- 
markable organization  was  founded  by  Edwin  D.  Mead, 
LL.D.,  —  the  Twentieth  Century  Club,  of  which  Mr. 
Mead  is  the  president  and  the  inspiring  leader.  Mr. 
Mead  is  widely  known  as  one  of  the  ablest  interpreters 
of  the  philosophy  of  Kant,  and  one  of  the  most  entranc- 
ing of  literary  lecturers,  as  well  as  editor  and  essayist 
of  scholarly  fame.  Mr.  Mead's  club  contributes,  in  the 
most  varied  far-reaching  and  effective  ways,  to  culture 
and  to  the  ever-growing  development  of  beautiful  ideals, 
—  of  individual  life  and  of  citizenship.  To  Edwin  D. 
Mead,  supported  by  this  noble  organization,  was  due  the 
ceremonial  celebration  of  that  memorable  Midnight 
of  1900-01,  when  the  old  century  went  out  and  the 
new^century  came  in.  The  celebration  of  this  memorable 
hour  was  one  of  significant  and  impressive  beauty.  It 
marked  the  initiation  of  a  still  higher  development  of 
the  City  of  Beautiful  Ideals,  —  of  a  period  suggested  in 
the  lines  of  Stephen  Phillips  :  — 

"  I  will  make  me  a  city  of  gliding  and  wide-wayed  silence, 
With  room  in  your  streets  for  the  soul." 

The  scene  of  that  midnight  was  one  to  live  in 
memory.  On  a  balcony  in  front  of  the  State  House 
on  Beacon  Hill  stood  the  Rev.  Dr.  Edward  Everett 
Hale  and  others  of  the  clergy,  with  Mr.  Edwin  D. 
Mead  and  a  group  of  invited  guests.  The  Common 
below  was  thronged  with  people  who,  with  one 
accord,  welcomed  the  new  century  by  singing  the 
hymn,  — 


DAWN   OF   THE   TWENTIETH    CENTURY     477 

*'  O  God,  our  help  in  ages  past. 
Our  hope  in  worlds  to  come, 
Our  shelter  from  the  stormy  blast, 
And  our  eternal  home." 

Reverently  this  great  concourse  of  people  listened  as 
Dr.  Hale,  uplifting  his  voice  in  prayer,  consecrated  the 
historic  hour  and  the  years  that  waited,  just  over  the 
threshold  of  this  mystic  midnight,  with  all  their  un- 
known potentialities,  with  their  new  and  greater  mes- 
sage  to  Humanity.  Then,  with  a  great  fanfare  of 
trumpets,  the  Twentieth  century  was  ushered  in ;  and 
the  populace  who  welcomed  it,  standing  hushed  and 
reverent  under  a  sky  all  aflame  with  stars,  while  the 
deep-toned  bell  of  old  King's  Chapel  chimed  the  solemn 
strokes  of  the  knell  of  the  Nineteenth  century  and  the 
greeting  to  the  Twentieth,  —  the  entire  vast  throng 
must  have  seemed  to  hear  on  the  air  the  words  of  the 
poet :  — 

''Lo!  now  on  the  midnight  the  soul   of  the  century 
passing. 
And  on  midnight  the  voice  of  the  Lord ! " 


INDEX 


Abbey,  Edwin  A.,  423. 

Adams,  Charles  Follen,  450. 

Hon.  Charles  Francis,  81. 

Oscar  Fav,  454. 

Sarah  Holland,  441,  442. 

Agassiz,  Elizabeth  Gary  (Mrs.  Louis 
Agassiz),  350,  351. 

Louis,  18 ;    journey  of,    to  the 

Andes,  19;  poem  of  Dr.  Holmes 
to,  20;  death  of,  20. 

Alcott,  Amos  Bronson,  128  ;  esti- 
mated by  Frothingham,  128  :  birth 
of,  129  ;  gifts  of,  130,  131,  132  ;  in 
home  life,  133 ;  favorite  authors  of, 
134,  135;  sonnets  of,  135;  school 
of,  137;  Fruitlands,  experiment  of, 
described  by  Emerson,  139,  140, 
141,  142,  143 ;  poems  of,  144.  145, 
146;  family  life  of,  153,  154;  real- 
izes dream  of  an  Academe,  164, 
165;  philosophical  teachings  of, 
166,  167,  168;  Emerson  character- 
ized by,  184. 

Louisa  May,  diary,  records  of, 

79 ;  childhood  of,  147 ;  early  ex- 
periences of,  147,  148 ;  character  of 
work,  149 ;  diary,  extracts  of,  150, 
151;  fame  of,  152. 

Aldrich,  Thomas  Bailey,  434,  436; 
art  of,  437;  lines  from,  437,  438, 
439. 

Alger,  Rev.  Dr.  William  Rounceville, 
353. 

Allston,  Washington,  182. 

Alvary,  Herr,  395. 

Ames,  Rev.  Dr.  Charles  Gordon, 
words  of,  on  Phillips  Brooks,  342 ; 
sermons  of,  468,  470,  471. 


Ames,  Fanny  B.  (Mrs.  Charles  Gor- 
don Ames),  472. 

Anagnos,  Julia  Romana,  nee  Howe, 
(Mrs.  Michael  Anagnos),  183,  184. 

Aristotle,  178. 

Arnold,  Matthew,  visits  Boston,  325 ; 
lecture  of,  on  Emerson,  372,  373. 

Atlantic  Monthlv,  The,  founding  of, 
227,  228. 

Authors'  reading,  450. 

B 

Bacon,  Delia,  58 ;  arduous  life  of, 
99;  Hawthorne's  characterization 
of,  60. 

Balzac,  Honore  de,  344. 

Bartol,  Rev.  Dr.  Cyrus,  31,  169. 

Bates,  Arlo,  448. 

Charlotte  Fiske,  see  Rog^. 

Baxter,  Sylvester,  474. 

Beacon  Hill,  475. 

Bernhardt,  Sarah,  comparison  of, 
with  Duse,  393. 

Bierstadt,  Oscar  F.,  420. 

Blackwell,  Alice  Stone,  475. 

Blake,  Mary  E.  (Mrs.  John  G.  Blake), 
446. 

Booth,  Agnes  (Mrs.  John  B.  Schoef- 
fel),  392. 

Edwin,  430. 

Edwina  (Mrs.  Grossman),  430. 

Boston,  description  of,  in  the  "for- 
ties," by  Dr.  Hale,  265,  266;  famous 
groups  in,  100 ;  Latin  Quartier  of, 
352. 

Bostonians,  the  summer  homes  of, 
81,  82. 

Bradstreet,  Anne,  23. 

Brema,  Marie,  395. 


480 


INDEX 


Brimmer,  Dr.,  426. 

Brooks,  Rt.  Rev.  Dr.  Phillips,  called 
to  Trinity  Church,  325;  associ- 
ates of,  327;  love  of  nature,  328; 
wide  relatedness  of,  329 ;  ministry 
of,  333,  334,  377;  special  charac- 
teristics of,  334;  periods  of  work, 
335,  336;  social  nature  of,  337; 
called  to  the  Episcopate,  339;  per- 
sonal traits  of,  340 ;  Dr.  Ames  on, 
342;  influence  of,  348. 

Brown,  Alice,  474. 

Browning,  Elizabeth  Barrett,  sonnets 
of,  85. 

Brunswick,  the  Hotel,  328,  400. 

Bulkeley,  Rev.  Peter,  110. 

Butterworth,  Hezekiah,  453. 


Cabot,  James  Eliot,  118. 

Carl^'le,  Thomas,  marriage  gift  of,  to 
Mrs.  Emerson,  234. 

Channing,  Eva,  472. 

Chapman,  Maria  Westman,  described 
by  Miss  Martineau,  64. 

Chatterji,  Mohini,  356. 

Chav.annes,  Puvis  de,  428. 

Cheney,  Ednah  Dow,  Theodore 
Parker's  opinion  of  Alcott  related 
by,  140. 

Child,  Lydia  Maria,  nee  Francis, 
beautiful  temperament  of,  60;  ex- 
perience of,  61,  63,  64,  420;  Whit- 
tier's  estimate  of,  421. 

Church  of  Disciples,  founding  of,  48 ; 
469. 

Church,  "  Old  South,"  369. 

Trinity,  424. 

"City  of  Beautiful  Ideals,"  472. 

Claflin,  Mary  (Mrs.  William  Claflin), 
417,  418. 

Hon.  William,  417;   early  life 

of,  418;  John  Hancock  estimated 
by,  419. 

Clapp,  Henry  Austin,  fine  dramatic 
criticism  of,  392. 

Clarke,  Rev.  Dr.  James  Freeman, 
48;  "Ten  Great  Religions"  of, 
49;    Dr.    Holmes'    poem   to,    54; 


friendship  of,  for  Margaret  Fuller, 

55;  letter  of  Dr.   Holmes  to,  250, 

251. 
Clough,   Arthur   Hugh,   visit  of,  to 

Boston,  85. 
Club,  the   New  England  Woman's, 

472. 

the  Papyrus,  447. 

the  Saturday,  229. 

the  St.  Botolph,  430. 

the  Transcendental,  3. 

the  Twentieth  Century,  474. 

Concord,    the  idyl  of,   163;   famous 

people  of,  104,  105. 
Conway,  Katherine  Eleanor,  355,  446. 
Cranch,  Christopher,  472. 

D 

Dall,  Caroline,  nee  Healey,  tran- 
scendentalism defined  by,  30, 

Damrosch,  Mrs.  Leopold,  406. 

Walter,    394;    directive    power 

of,  396;  produces  opera  of  "The 
Scarlet  Letter,"  403,  404,  405; 
creative  power  of,  409. 

Davids,  Rhys,  390. 

Deland,  Margaret,  431. 

Denison,  Rev.  John,  343. 

"Deserted  House,  The,"  185. 

"  Dial,  The,"  21. 

Diaz,  Abby  Morton,  418,  472;  early 
work  of,  420,  421. 

Dickinson,  Emily,  118. 

Dolbear,  Prof.  Aaron  E.,  361. 

Dole,  Nathan  Haskell,  448. 

Dom  Pedro,  Emperor  of  Brazil,  visit 
of,  to  Boston,  20. 

Donald,  Rev.  Dr.  E.  Winchester, 
call  of,  to  rectorship  of  Trinity 
Church,  347;  sermons  of,  347,  348. 

Douglass,  Frederick,  remark  of,  at 
funeral  of  Wendell  Phillips,  72. 

Duse,  Eleanora,  comparison  of,  with 
Bernhardt,  392. 

E 

Ebenschuetz,  Riza,  398. 
Elliott,  John,  decorative  painting  of, 
406. 


INDEX 


481 


Elliott,  Maud,  nee  Howe  (Mrs.  John 

Elliott),  269. 
Emerson,  Ellen,  116. 
Mary  Moody,  112,  113,  114. 

Ralph    Waldo,    letter    of,     to 

Whipple,  8;  letter  of,  to  Elizabeth 
Peabody,  21;  letter  of,  to  Sophia 
Peabody,  28;  poetry  of,  110;  col- 
lege days,  115 ;  describes  Concord, 
115,  116;  letter  of,  to  his  wife, 
117 ;  letter  of,  to  Margaret  Fuller, 
117;  impressions  of  Alcott,  118, 
120, 122 ;  Margaret  Fuller's  words 
of,  124;  letter  of,  to  Whipple,  124, 
125;  poems  of,  125,  126,  127;  letter 
of,  to  Sophia  Hawthorne,  163,  164; 
home  of,  179;  death  of,  185,  186; 
appreciations  of,  186,  194;  grave 
of,  190;  letter  of  Felton's  to,  230, 
231;  letter  of,  to  Whipple,  231; 
personal  life  of,  232,  235. 

Ruth,  nee  Haskins  (Mrs.  Wil- 
liam Emerson),  111,  112. 

Rev.  William,  108. 


Felton,  Cornelius  C,  letter  of,  to 
EmersoD,  230,  231. 

Field,  Rev.  Father,  469. 

Fields,  Annie,  nee  Adams  (Mrs. 
James  T.  Fields),  219,  439;  440. 

James  T.,  100,  205. 

Fischer,  Emil,  398. 

Fiske,  Dr.  John,  364;  365;  Darwinian 
interpretation  of,  368,  369. 

Forbes,  Edith,  nee  Emerson,  116. 

Frothingham,  Rev.  Octavius  B., 
estimates  Emerson's  "iSTature,"  24. 

Fuller,  George,  426. 

Margaret,  nee  Fuller,  Countess 

d'Ossoli,  32;  33;  marriage  of,  34; 
personality  of,  35,  36;  estimate  of, 
by  James  Freeman  Clarke,  37,  38 ; 
meets  Emerson,  39 ;  characteriza- 
tion of,    by  Emerson,  40 ;  86. 


Gadski,  Johanna,  appearance  of,  in 
opera  of  "  The  Scarlet  Letter,"  395. 


Garrison,  William  Lloyd,  23;  esti- 
mate of,  by  Col.  Higginson,  66. 

Gordon,  Rev.  Dr.  George  A.,  468. 

Gould,  Benjamin  Apthorp,  Observa- 
tory at  Cordova  founded  by,  388; 
389  ;  poem  of  Holmes  addressed  to, 
389 ;  high  rank  in  science,  390. 

Grant,  Judge  Robert,  435,  436. 

Greeley,  Horace,  310. 


H 

Hale,  Rev.  Dr.  Edward  Everett, 
Boston  in  the  "forties"  described 
by,  265,  266;  277;  ancestry  of,  280, 
281;  important  work  of,  234,  254, 
284;  reads  "My  Double,"  451; 
Twentieth  century  welcomed  by, 
475. 

Lucretia,  434,  435. 

Susan,  435. 

Hancock,  John,  8;  419. 

Harris,  Hon.  William  Torrey,  LL.D., 
lecturer  on  Aristotle,  178 ;  interpre- 
tation of  Emerson,  171 ;  lectures  of, 
173;  lines  to,  197,  198. 

Harvard,  Rev.  John,  419. 

Hawthorne,  Julian,  155;  156. 

Madame,  158. 

Nathaniel,    Whipple's  visit  to, 

22 ;  experience  of,  at  Brook  Farm, 
22,  letter  of,  to  Sophia  Peabody, 
30;  relations  with  Elizabeth  Pea- 
body, 86;  letters  of,  155,  156,  159, 
162,  163;  Longfellow's  poem  on, 
160. 

Sophia,     nee    Peabody     (Mrs. 

Nathaniel  Hawthorne),  simplicity 
and  loveliness  of,  22 ;  Longfellow's 
letter  to,  161;  letter  of,  to  Long- 
fellow, 162;  returns  to  London, 
164. 

Rose.     See  Lathrop. 

Hedge,  Dr.  Frederic  Henry,  122;  123. 

Hemenway,  Mary,  aid  of,  to  John 
Fiske,  367 ;  home  of,  369 ;  charac- 
ter of,  370,  371. 

Higginson,  Col.  Thomas  Wentworth, 
450,  451. 


31 


482 


INDEX 


Hoar,  Elizabeth,  121. 

,  Hon.  Samuel,  190. 

Hodgson,  Dr.  Richard,  360. 

Holmes,  Oliver  Wendell,  Emerson 
characterized  by,  28;  letters  of,  to 
Mrs.  Whipple,  204;  to  Whipple, 
217,  218,  220,  221,  249,  250;  poem 
of  Lowell  to,  237;  key-note  of 
character  of,  238;  views  of,  238, 
239 ;  conversation  of,  241 ;  family 
of,  244,  245,  246;  works  of,  242, 
248;  letter  of,  to  Motley,  248  ;  let- 
ters of,  to  James  Freeman  Clarke, 
250,  251 ;  letters  of,  to  Lowell,  252 ; 
253;  255;  personality  of,  257 ;  258; 
259;  260. 

Hunt,  William,  426. 

Hutchinson,  Anne,  5. 

Howe,  Julia,  nee  Ward,  23 ;  73 ;  lec- 
tures of,  before  School  of  Philoso- 
phy, 179 ;  lines  of,  267 ;  early  life 
of,  269,  270,  271;  studies  of,  272, 
273,  274;  work  of,  274:  reading 
by,  275. 

Maud.     See  Elliott. 

Dr.  Samuel  Gridley,  poem  of 

Whittier  to,  100 ;  170;  267. 

Howells,  Eleanor,  nee  Mead,  311. 

William  Dean,  Lowell's  intro- 
duction of,  to  Hawthorne,  309; 
early  poems  of,  309 ;  Lowell  gives 
dinner  to,  309 ;  views  of,  316,  317 ; 
sojourn  of,  in  Venice,  311. 

Winifred,  311. 


"Impromptu,  An,"  to  Dr.   W.  J. 

Harris,  197, 198. 
Irving,  Sir  Henry,  392. 
Ives,  Prof.  Halsey  C,  portrait  of,  430. 


James,  Henry,  pere,  312 ;  Jils, 

Prof.  William,  360,  391. 

Jewett,  Sarah  Orue,  443. 
Johns,  Clayton,  406. 
Jones,  Hiram  K.,  173, 174. 


Kalisch,  Paul,  398. 

Kemble,  Fanny  (Mrs.  Butler),  Long- 
fellow hears  reading  by,  85,  86; 
anecdote  of,  219. 

Kernahan,  Coulson,  305. 

King,  Rev.  Dr.  Thomas  Starr,  18. 

King's  Chapel,  238. 

Kingsford,  Anna,  356. 

Klafsky,  Katherine,  400;  401. 

Knowlton,  Helen  M.,  observation 
of,  on  Elizabeth  Peabody,  181, 
182 ;  portrait  of  Winifred  Howells, 
painted  by,  311. 

Kossuth,  entertained  by  Longfellow, 
83,  84. 


Lathrop,  George  Parsons,  156, 
157;  184;  opera  libretto  of,  403. 

Rose,    nee   Hawthorne     (Mrs. 

George  Parsons  Lathrop),  157. 

Lehmann,  Lilli,  395. 

Lind,  Jenny,  84,  85. 

Little,  Brown  &  Co.,  46,  128. 

Livermore,  Rev.  Dr.  Daniel  Parker, 
460;  462. 

Mary  Ashton,  nee  Rice    (Mrs. 

Daniel  Parker  Livermore),  455; 
genius  of,  457 ;  home  of,  458 ;  great 
lectures  of,  463,  464,  465;  oration 
of  Lincoln,  466 ;  influence  of,  467. 

Lodge,  Anna  Cabot,  446,  447. 

"Lohengrin,"  397. 

Longfellow,  Frances,  nee  Appleton, 
22. 

Henry  Wadsworth,  83,  85;  let- 
ter of,  to  Whipple,  203,  204. 

Loring,  General  Charles  G.,  426. 

Lowell,  Rev.  Dr.  Charles,  261. 

Institute,  the,  286,  376. 

James  Russell,  letters  of,    to 

Whipple,  83;  poem  of,  to  Holmes, 
237;  letter  to,  from  Holmes,  252 j 
255;  meets  Thoreau,  263;  early 
youth  of,  261,  262,  263. 

Maria,  nee  White,  264. 


INDEX 


483 


Lowell,  Percival,  386. 

Lunt,  Adeline,  nee  Parsons,  297,  298, 

M 

Martineau,  Harriet,  estimates 
Margaret  Fuller,  39. 

Mather,  Cotton,  5;  7;  454,  455. 

McCosh,  President,  179. 

Mead,  Edwin,  474,  475. 

Larkin  G.,  311. 

Meeker,  Nathan  Cook,  association 
with  Horace  Greeley  on  "  Tribune," 
310;  town  of  Greeley,  Colorado, 
founded  by,  310. 

Ralph,  charming  style  of,  310. 

Michael  Angelo,  480. 

Michelson,  Dr.  Albert  A.,  373;  great 
scientific  work  of,  374,  375. 

Monvel,  Boutet  de,  428. 

Motley,  John  Lothrop,  248,  251. 

Moulton,  Louise,  ne'e  Chandler,  cos- 
mopolitan life  of,  302;  303,  304; 
poetic  art  of,  305;  Kernahan's  esti- 
mate of,  305,  306;  452. 

Munsterberg,  Prof.  Hugo,  390,  391. 

Myers,  Frederic  W.  H.,  364. 

N 

Nansen,  Dr.,  381;  382;  Arctic  night 
described  by,  384,  385,  386. 

Nieriker,   Louisa  May,  136. 

Monsieur,  136. 

Nordica,  Lillian,  402,  403. 

Norton,  Andrews,  views  of,  on  Emer- 
son's "Nature,"  25;  26. 

Prof.  Charles  Eliot,  119;  Maria 

Lowell  described  by,  264;  Lowell's 
letters  edited  by,  265;  letter  of, 
to  Whipple,  290;  Homer,  Shak- 
speare,  and  Dante  compared  by, 
290;  lectures  on  Dante  by,  289, 
290;  views  of,  on  poetry,  430,  431. 


"Old Manse,  The,"'  108. 
"Oracles   of    New  England,    The," 

179,  180. 
O'Reilly,  John  Boyle,  446,  447,  448. 


Otis,  Mrs.  Harrison  G.,  74,  75;  re- 
ceptions of,  on  Washington's  birth- 
day, 76 ;  work  of,  in  the  Civil  War, 
77,  78. 

"Over-Soul,  The,"  25. 


"Parker,  Memorial,  The,"  70. 

Parker,  Theodore,  21;  comparison 
of,  with  Savonarola,  21 ;  referred 
to,  by  Mrs.  Howe,  56;  Mrs.  Child's 
impressions  of,  56,  57;  early  im- 
pulses of,  57 ;  death  of,  in  Florence, 
58. 

Parkman,  Francis,  remarkable  na- 
ture of,  317,  318;  methods  of,  320; 
works  of,  321. 

Parsons,  Dr.  Thomas  William,  290; 
isolation  of  temperament  of,  291; 
292;  "Paradisa  Gloria"  of,  293; 
early  life  of,  295,  296 ;  Dante  trans- 
lations of,  299,  300,  301. 

Peabody,  Elizabeth,  29 ;  visit  of,  to 
Europe,  88;  with  Charlotte  Cush- 
man  in  Rome,  meeting  of,  89 ;  work 
of,  in  School  of  Philosophy,  169, 
170;  letter  of,  to  Alcott,  180;  per- 
sonality of,  181,  182;  characteriza- 
tion of,  183;  Mrs.  Howe's  words 
of,  183 ;  description  of,  444,  445. 

Mary.     5ee  Mann. 

Sophia.     See,  Hawthorne. 

the  Sisters,  157. 

Peirce,  Prof.  Benjamin,  poem  of 
Holmes  to,  225;  lectures  of,  226; 
scientific  rank  of,  222,  223 ;  224. 

Perabo,  Johann  Ernst,  noble  art  of, 
307,  308;  views  of,  308. 

Pericles,  100. 

Phillips,  Stephen,  478. 

Wendell,    23,     65;   O'Reilly's 

poem  on,  66 ;  estimate  of,  bj'  Col. 
Higginson,  66,  67;  tablet  on  home 
of,  68;  69,  70 ;  death  of,  71,  72. 

Porter,  Maria  S.,  nee  Alley,  Mrs. 
Lunt  characterized  by,  297,  298. 

Pratt,  John,  66,  136. 

Prince,  Helen,  nee  Choate,  475. 

Psychical  Research,  Society  of,  360. 


484 


INDEX 


Public  Library,  the  Boston,  421. 
Putnam,  Herbert,  421. 
P^'thagoras,  177. 

Q 

QuiNCY,  Dorothy  ("Dorothy  Q."), 

80. 
Quincy,  Col.  Edmund,  79. 

R 

Radcliffe,  College  of,  357. 

Radical  Club,  the,  276,  277,  278. 

Raffaelli,  430. 

Richards,  Laura  A.,  nee  Howe,  475. 

Ripley,  Dr.  George,  108,  109. 

Robinson,  Edward,  426. 

Roche,  James  Jeffrey,  446. 

Roge,  Charlotte  Fiske,  nee  Bates,  450. 

"Royal  Guest,  The,"  271,  272. 

Royce,  Prof.  Josiah,  364. 


St.  Gaudens,  Augustus,  impressive 
statue  by,  4. 

Sanborn,  Franklin  Benjamin,  121; 
poem  of,  before  School  of  Philoso- 
phy, 175;  176;  lectures  of,  179; 
characterization  of  Emerson  of, 
191,  192;  translations  of,  472. 

Sargent,  John  S.,  427,  428. 

Savage,  Rev.  Dr.  Minot  J.,  57;  360. 

"Scarlet  Letter,  The,"  84;  opera  of, 
407,  408,  409. 

Scudder,  Horace,  228. 

Scudder,  Vida  D.,  475. 

Sedgwick,  William  E.,  391. 

See,  Dr.  T.  J.  J.,  376;  astronomical 
discoveries  of,  377;  researches  of, 
378;  reverses  theory  of  La  Place, 
378;  early  life  of,  329,  330. 

"Sleepy  Hollow,"  114. 

Snider,  Denton  J.,  197. 

Sonnets,  Alcott's,  135. 

Spofford,  Harriet,  nee  Prescott,  229, 
306. 

Stedraan,  Edmund  Clarence,  poem 
of,  before    School  of    Philosophy, 


175;  Whittier  estimated  by,  416, 
417. 

Stone,  Lucy  (Mrs.  Henry  B.  Black- 
well),  early  life  of,  90,  92,  93,  94; 
personality  of,  described  by  Alice 
Stone  Blackwell,  95;  marriage  of, 
96;  home  life  of,  97,  98;  character 
of,  99. 

Stowe,  Harriet,  nee  Beecher,  219,  419. 

Swift,  Lindsay  I.,  475. 

Symonds,  Arthur,  472. 


"  Tannhausek,"  401. 

Tasso,  39. 

Temple  Place,  353. 

Terry,  Ellen,  392. 

Thaxter,  Celia,  443,  444. 

Thoreau,  Henry  David,  Emerson's 
estimate  of,  105. 

"Threnody,"  116. 

Ticknor,  Anna  Eliot,  348,  349. 

Caroline,  350. 

Prof.  George  D.,  78. 

•'Transcript,  The,"  relates  occur- 
rence at  authors'  reading,  453. 

"  Tristan  and  Isolde,"  399. 

Twentieth  Century,  the,  midnight 
inauguration  of,  on  Boston  Com- 
mon, 476. 

u 

"  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin,"  84. 


Very,  Jones,  40 ;  faith  of,  41 ;  char- 
acterized by  Miss  Peabody,  42; 
characterized  by  Emerson,  43,  44, 
45 ;  Dr.  Hale  on,  46,  47,  48. 

Vivekananda,  Swami,  358. 

w 

Wagner,  Richard,  86,  399. 
Walker,  Gen.  Francis  A.,  448,  449. 
Ward,  Elizabeth  Stuart,  nee  Phelps, 
432;  Longfellow  characterized  by, 


INDEX 


485 


433;  seaside  home  of,  433,  434; 
note  of,  434. 

"Wayside,  The,"  399. 

Wellesley,  College  of,  65. 

Wells,  Kate,  nee  Gannett,  449. 

Wendell,  Prof.  Barrett,  454. 

Whipple,  Charlotte,  nee  Hastings 
(Mrs.  Edwin  Percy  Whipple), 
social  circle  of,  210;  letter  of 
Holmes  to,  204,  205. 

- —  Edwin  Percy,  201 ;  Elizabethan 
literature  of,  202 ;  letter  of  Sumner 
to,  202;  Longfellow's  letter  to,  203, 
204 ;  letter  of  Edward  Everett  to, 
263 ;  letter  of,  to  Lilian  Whiting, 

215,  216;  Alcott  characterized  by, 
205 ;  letters  of  Holmes  to,  206,  217, 
218,220,  221,  260;  letter  of  Emer- 
son's to,  231;  letter  of  Curtis  to, 
208;  characterized  by  Whittier, 
207 ;  movement  to  award  Harvard 
degree  to,  212 ;  home  life  of,  210 ; 
characterization  of,  by  Kate  Field, 

216,  217. 


Whipples,  the,  22. 

Whittier,  John  Greenleaf,  410;  po- 
tent influence  of,  411;  felicitous 
expressions  of,  412;  letter  of,  to 
Holmes,  412,  413;  letter  of,  to 
Whipple,  414;  noted  reception  to, 
by  Mrs.  Claflin,  417. 

Winter,  William,  451. 

Winthrop,  Hon.  Eobert  Charles,  11 ; 
ideal  life  of,  11,  12;  public  recep- 
tions of,  12;  Phillips  Brooks  writes 
to,  12. 

Wolkonsky,  Prince,  406. 

Wright,  Eev.  Dr.  G.  Frederick,  great 
lectures  of,  386;  early  life  and 
work  of,  387,  388. 


Xenophon,  24. 


ZoRN,  Anders,  art  of,  429. 


Cbe  aiorld  Beautiful 

By   LILIAN   WHITING 


I  know  of  no  volumes  of  sermons  published  in  recent  years  which 
are  so  well  fitted  to  uplift  the  reader,  and  inspire  all  that  is  finest  and 
best  in  his  nature,  as  are  the  series  of  essays  entitled  "The  World 
Beautifiil,"  by  Lilian  Whiting.  — B.  O.  Flower,  in  The  Coming  Age. 


Cbe  dorld  Beautiful  (fnvst  Series) 

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The  world  beautifiil  about  which  she  writes  is  no  far-off  event  to 
gvhich  all  things  move,  but  the  every-day  scene  around  us  filled  by  a 
spirit  which  elevates  and  transforms  it.  —  Prof.  Louis  J.  Block,  in 
The  Philosophical  Journal. 

No  one  can  read  it  without  feeling  himself  the  better  and  richer 
and  happier  for  having  done  so.  —  The  Independent. 

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tions ;   The  Unseen  World. 

The  style  is  at  once  gracefiil  and  lively.  Every  touch  Is  fresh.  — 
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The  thoughtfiil  reader  who  loves  spiritual  themes  will  find  these 
pages  inspiring.  —  Chicago  Inter-Ocean. 


Hftcr  f)er  Death 

XThe  8toi*y  of  a  Summer  ^ 

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My  Heart  Thou  Livest  So  ;  Across  the  World 
I  Speak  to  Thee  ;  The  Deeper  Meaning  of  the 
Hour. 

My  conviction  is  that  every  preacher,  reformer,  religious  editor, 
and  Christian  worker  should  read  the  books  by  Lilian  Whiting.  — 
Rev.  W.  H.  Rogers,  in  The  Christian  Standard. 

"  After  Her  Death  "  has  given  me  the  light  and  help  I  have  so 
long  craved  j  it  has  given  me  comfort  and  strength  which  no  other 
book  has  ever  done.  —  Cordelia  L.  Commore. 


from  Dreamland  Sent 

Terscs  of  the  Life  to  Come   <*    /«? 

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Lilian  Whiting's  verse  is  like  a  bit  of  sunlit  landscape  on  a  May 
morning.  —  Boston  Herald. 

Graceful,  tender,  and  true,  appealing  to  what  is  best  in  the 
human  heart.  —  The  Independent. 

I  never  saw  anything  on  earth  before  which  looked  so  much  as  if 
just  brought  from  heaven  by  angel  hands  as  this  new  edition  of  *'  From 
Dreamland  Sent."  In  the  golden  sunshine  of  an  Italian  morning  I 
have  heard  the  silver  trumpets  blow.  This  exquisite  book  reminds 
QIC  of  them.  —  Sarah  Holland  Adams. 


Kate    field  /^  n  Record 

By  Lilian  Whiting.  Author  of  ''The  World 
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Miss  Whiting  modestly  calls  her  book  a  ''Record,"  but  it  can 
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It  is  a  serious,  earnest  work,  written  around  a  fascinating  subject.  — 
Neiv  York  Commercial  Advertiser. 


H8tud)>of  ^  ^ 

6Uzabetb  Barrett  Browning 

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York  Times. 

The  leading  facts  of  Mrs.  Browning's  life  and  a  good  analysis  of 
her  character  and  work.  —  Boston  Transcript. 

Decidedly  readable.  .  .  .  Brings  the  poet's  art  into  vivid  light 
and  outlines  the  peculiarities  both  of  her  character  and  of  her  genius.  — 
Chicago  Tribune. 

A  valuable  contribution  to  literature,  and  a  worthy  interpretation 
of  Mrs.  Browning's  life  and  works.  — Los  Angeles  Herald. 


The  Spiritual  Significance 

or,  Death  as  an  Svent  in  Life  ^  ^  ^ 

By  Lilian  Whiting.  Author  of  "  The  World 
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It  suggests  and  hints  at  the  ultimate  significance  of  scientific  in- 
vestigation with  relation  to  the  totality  of  thought  in  a  very  fresh  and 
suggestive  way.  .  .  .  The  spirit  of  her  book,  like  that  of  its  prede- 
cessors, is  admirable.  —  The  Outlook. 

A  book  from  her  pen  means  new  flashes  of  insight,  a  revelation 
of  spiritual  truth  almost  Emersonian  in  kind.  —  Chicago  Chronicle. 


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